


Openheart

by midwestwind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Detective Noir, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Graphic Depictions of Wounds, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6554035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/midwestwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time in Brooklyn, NY, there lived a community of fairy tale characters known as Storybrooke. Through the use of magic they have protected their secret community from the mundane world.</p><p>Sheriff Emma Swan protects them from each other.</p><p>(a the wolf among us au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. this world is gonna burn

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know. "really, ella? a "the wolf among us" au? aren't you like three years late on this?" and yes, yes i am. but i just played the game for the first time and read over 50 fables comics and i couldn't get this idea out of my head so Here We Are! this is the first multi chapter i've written in years but it's all written and just waiting to be published so there's no chance of abandonment! as a warning; due to the sort of noir-type vibe i was trying for, this fic might not be terribly kind to all of your faves. regardless, i hope you enjoy this!
> 
> thanks to sandy and steph for helping me with this and keeping me motivated!

Sometimes Emma still feels like a visitor to New York. A bystander more than a participant. When the Stories had decided to colonize in Brooklyn, she’d already spent most of her time on Earth living in Maine. For most people in their little secluded section of the burrow, New York was the only part of the Mundane World they’d seen. Emma’s seen enough of it for multiple lifetimes.

 

When the Darkness started vanishing lands, the residents of the Enchanted Forest knew it wouldn’t be long until they were added to the list. It took years for a land to completely vanish and the Darkness had yet to breach any of their nearing countries. So, the planning had begun to make a great Exodus through portals, supplied by Giants who also feared the Darkness’ powers.

 

It took years to evacuate the whole population, including refugees from lands that had already suffered the effects of the Darkness. By the time the last few residents crossed into the Mundane World, the Enchanted Forest was already vanishing. Not that Emma was there to see it.

 

New York was easy to slip into untraced, though. Too many people living too busy of lives to worry about their little city block. Add the enchantments around the small enclosed coupling of streets to that and they were all practically invisible.Their secret town, mostly hidden from Mundane eyes, was formed. They created a government and along with that government came the Amnesty Charter. Everyone needed to sign it to become a resident of their little colony. It gave immunity to any crime committed in the Enchanted Forest. 

 

After the Darkness, everyone was just looking for a fresh start. The residents who stayed within the colonized section of burrow took to calling it Storybrooke and the residents took on the moniker Stories. It’s always been decided they function better as a group, separate from the Mundane World and it’s people’s - colorfully nicknamed Mundies - rules.

 

That didn’t mean they could run around doing whatever they wanted.

 

In a town where discretion is key, anything that might bring in unwanted attention is a safety hazard. The sheriff’s job is mostly to shut down bar fights, handle disorderly Stories, and keep everyone in check. The worst thing Emma’s seen in her time as sheriff is a drunken Will Scarlet streaking past the Nottingham Apartments.

 

Getting a call to a disturbance at Glowerhaven wasn’t Emma’s ideal plan for the night but, hey, she’d chosen this job. Or it had chosen her in a way. Regardless, Emma doesn’t like to dwell on why exactly she’s the acting sheriff. There are some things even in a few decades can’t fix.

 

When she arrives, Victor is drunkenly shaking his fists at an unaffected Ursula. He turns at the sound of the door in the mostly empty bar and glares at Emma as she approaches.

 

“What’s the problem here, Doc?” She asks. Victor turns his scowl from Emma to Ursula. Ursula puts a hand on her hip and stares him down.

 

“Sea Witch here isn’t being very welcoming to patrons,” he spits. “You’d think she’d want business at her shitty bar.”

 

Ursula barely moves but Emma can see the anger bubbling underneath the surface. Emma doesn’t really want to have to deal with the outcome if that rage gets out.

 

“He came in drunk and raving already,” Ursula says, directing her words towards Emma while she keeps an eye on Victor. “Scared away all my customers when I refused to serve him. Lucky that’s all I did to him.”

 

Emma sighs.

 

“I’ll handle it, thanks for calling,” she tells Ursula, turning back to Victor. He’s glowering at the both of them but Emma hopes that he knows better than to mess with her.

 

“Don’t thank me, Sheriff,” Ursula bites, turning to head back behind the bar. “Just get him the fuck out of my bar.”

 

Emma nearly turns back to Ursula at the bite in her voice, annoyed at the general lack of trust she seems to be acquiring lately, when Victor takes a swing. Emma ducks out of his drunken range easily enough, sweeps his leg out from under him. He lands on his ass on the wooden floor, glaring up at her.

 

“Glad we got that out of our systems,” Emma offers dryly. “You feel better?”

 

“Bitch,” he groans, attempting to stand but dropping back down. Emma’s fingertips prickle and she takes a deep breath before reaching down and dragging him to his feet by his collar.

 

“Storybrooke actually kind of needs you, Frankenstein, so I’m gonna let that one go. Go home and sleep this off,” she commands. Victor offers her one last look before slinking towards the door. Emma goes to follow, just to make sure he doesn’t try to make trouble in some Mundy bar instead. She stops at the sound of Ursula’s voice.

 

“Would you let him off so easily if he were one of us?” She asks and Emma raises an eyebrow. “One of the strays?”

 

Emma considers her for a minute, wonders how much she pays a month for a glamour enchantment to make her tentacles look like legs. The prices of such enchantments - necessary to continued living in their small community - keep going up. She thinks of the palace living everyone seems to expect from her instead of the tiny apartment on the second floor of Nottingham.

 

“I am one of you,” she offers instead of a response. Ursula scoffs and disappears through a door into the back of the bar. When Emma gets back outside, Victor is hobbling down the street towards where Emma knows his apartment to be located. She takes it as a good sign and decides to call it a night.

 

-/-

 

Everyone in Storybrooke has their own problems. It’s the dangers of near immortality in an unfamiliar world. They’ve been in the Mundane world for so long and yet there are still so many adjustments. Most of those who actually did make it out of the Enchanted Forest with much of their fortunes in tact are struggling now. It turns out even a fortune is easy to spend over a couple centuries.

 

Like any power system, there are those that exploit the struggling residents and there are those that ignore them all together. Every morning, Emma has to walk past a line of poor, bereaved Stories waiting for a chance to talk to the Mayor and find some assistance. Unfortunately, as impoverished as it’s citizens are, Storybrooke’s government isn’t exactly raking in the cash. Donations from their richest residents can only go so far and there’s the price of operating that no one likes to consider.

 

Emma isn’t blind. She knows the types of Stories the Mayor favors, the rich elite like Rumplestiltskin and Maleficent can saunter in and have their tiniest problems solved at the drop of a hat. Someone like Ursula would have to wait in line for hours just for the chance for the Deputy Mayor to put on a brave face and say “I’m so sorry, there’s simply nothing we can do”.

 

It’s a shitty system, but it’s the way things are done. As bitter as the Stories want to be, they should count themselves lucky to have Snow White as Deputy Mayor. Emma’s parents hadn’t made it to the Mundane world unscathed, refusing to leave until their land had been evacuated. Snow fights everyday to find the funds to help who she can, battles with the Mayor for the rights of the impoverished. Emma has always admired that trait in her mother - even if is ultimately unsuccessful.

 

Snow  _ tries _ and that’s more than Emma can say for most people.

 

Emma makes it back to the apartment complex around midnight and drifts off almost as soon as she lands on her bed. She even manages a solid three and a half hours of sleep when she wakes up to her phone ringing.

 

“Sheriff Swan,” she slurs into the receiver after digging the device out from the pocket of the jeans she’d fallen asleep in.

 

“Sorry to wake you, Sheriff,” Red says, the slow and quiet way she’s speaking putting Emma on alert. “Especially with such bad news but you need to get down here. Now.”

 

Red rattles off directions to the alley she’s in and Emma’s heart races a bit. There’s something to be said for intuition. Emma’s powers don’t include prophesizing or fortune telling but she’s learned to rely on the way her hair raises at the back of her neck. 

 

Whatever Red is leading her to, it’s going to change everything.

 

Red is pacing back and forth in front of the alley when Emma shows up. Her dark hair is messy from being fussed with in her nerves and she currently has one bright red nail between her teeth. Emma approaches her warily, speaks in a low tone.

 

“What is it, Red?”

 

The woman startles and turns to face Emma, removing her finger from her lips to run her hand through her hair. Anything that has the Big Bad Wolf shaken isn’t something Emma wants to encounter. Not that she has a choice.

 

“It was so strong it woke me up,” Red explains shakily. “We live in Brooklyn and I’ve never smelled it so  _ heavily _ . Not in decades. I couldn’t ignore it anymore so I followed the scent.”

 

“The scent of  _ what _ ?” Emma tries again, trying to make sense of Red’s babbling. Something in her mind tells her she already knows.

 

“It’s horrible, Emma,” Red sighs, stepping back into the alley and waving Emma along with her. “I mean, even by my standards it’s something else.”

 

It’s not like the Mundy movies. There’s no sheet over it that Emma has to lift, no way to really prepare herself for it when she finds it. There’s only the sudden metallic scent in the air that, even without wolf senses, Emma can’t ignore and then there’s blood everywhere. And in the middle of it, a woman.

 

Red gasps behind Emma, like the sight has surprised her all over again. Emma breathes through her mouth and tries not to let the leftover Chinese food from earlier make a reappearance.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she breathes. Red let’s out a little noise behind her, something like a distressed whimper of agreement. Emma turns back to the woman. “Okay, you don’t need to see this anymore, Red. Go back to the business office and see if you can find out who she was. Send Walsh to help me get the body out of here.”

 

Red nods and turns to follow Emma’s instructions before stopping at the mouth of the alley.

 

“Her name was Trish,” she says quietly. And then she disappears around the corner and suddenly Emma is left alone with the body of a woman named Trish. She takes a shaky breath before stepping closer, watching her feet to keep from stepping in the pool of blood.

 

The woman’s dark hair is splayed around her, soaking up the blood spilling from her chest. The wound is on the front of her body so all the blood made its way down her shoulders and torso to create the pool. Emma can understand why the scent would have been overwhelming for Red. She bends down to inspect the wound closer, all jagged edges and no clean cuts. It’s gaping and so awful it takes Emma a minute to realize what’s missing.

 

And then she spots it a few feet away from the body itself, creating its own small, separate pool of blood. Even without Mundy medical training the organ is easily identifiable. Her heart.

 

“Jesus shit,” Emma lets out in surprise. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

 

And then she turns and throws up against the brick wall behind her.

 

-/-

 

Everything turns to chaos after that.

 

Walsh shows up with a pick up truck and helps Emma move Trish and her heart. He holds a steady calm at the scene that Emma is actually a little grateful for. He spends most of his time as a flying monkey, she kind of expecting him to be a little more neurotic for some reason. Maybe that’s an old Enchanted Forest stereotype. They can’t do a whole lot about the blood except dump some water over it and hope to dilute it until a nice good rain comes along.

 

Emma would be perfectly happy with never stepping foot in this alley again.

 

The business office is an enchanted room on the first floor of Nottingham. It’s twice the size of the palace Emma grew up in and houses every magical artifact or record that made it through the Exodus. Red and Snow are waiting for them when Emma and Walsh arrive, standing by the big book of Stories. Emma has Walsh take Trish’s body into one of the back catacombs, not to be touched until they’ve identified her officially and found a next of kin.

 

Red knew Trish in an adjacent capacity. She ran a fortune telling shop a few blocks south that she used to make money from Mundies. Despite that, she had been a powerful sorceress in the Enchanted Forest with a checkered past with more than one person in town. Their amnesty charter meant that the Storybrooke government couldn’t go after someone for their crimes in the Enchanted Forest. It didn’t always guard so well against personal vendettas.

 

Red picks up the stamp and presses it down on the paper. When she pulls it away, a large red framed  _ DECEASED  _ marks the page.

 

“Unfortunately, we can’t do much tonight,” Emma says, copying down some of the information from the book to create a file with. “Let’s all go home and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll start on the investigation.”

 

There’s a murmur of agreement, though Emma doubts any of them will be able to get much sleep after what they’d seen. She turns to leave before stalling.

 

“And, guys, let’s agree to keep this between us four for now,” she suggests. Red looks to Snow who looks surprised at the suggestion.

 

“You think we shouldn’t tell the Mayor?” Snow asks like it’s an absurd request. Emma crosses her arms and nods in the affirmative.

 

“I want to have a chance to get a jump on this before Regina can make it political,” she explains. “I’ll tell her. Just not tonight, alright?”

 

Reluctantly, Snow agrees and the three women head for their own separate apartments within Nottingham. Walsh lets his glamor enchantment fade away, returning to his typical primate form and flies back farther into the room to return to sleep himself.

 

Emma gets another two hours of restless sleep before she decides there are better ways for her to be spending her time. She heads to the lobby and turns down the hallway towards her office, scanning the information she’d jotted down from the book. She doesn’t notice the presence waiting in the lobby, moving into action when she crosses.

 

She’s heading down the hallway, past the line of people already waiting outside Snow’s office, when she hears his footfalls behind her.

 

“Today is so not the day, Hook,” Emma huffs once she realizes he’s trailing behind her to her office. He picks up his pace enough to walk next to her once they’ve passed the line of Stories waiting to air their grievances to Snow.

 

“I know you found a body,” he says, aware enough to keep his voice down. Emma shoots him a look and ushers him into her office. No good having this conversation in the hallway. “And I heard what state it was in when you found it.”

 

“How do you even know about that?” Emma asks, crossing her arms over her chest and ignoring his insinuation. Killian taps his finger to his ear, but he’s lacking his usual flair. Emma can tell he’s wound tight as a spring.

 

“I have my sources.” 

 

Emma rolls her eyes and turns away from him to round her desk and sit down. Killian follows the movement, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. The office is in complete disarray, Emma’s been saying she’d organize better for decades but there’s always some new problem.

 

“Emma,” Killian starts again, oddly serious. They’ve been doing this back-and-forth for a few years now. He shows up to bother her and Emma tries to actually be bothered. He’s not so bad, really. “You had to have known I’d show up. Can’t you tell me anything?”

 

“There’s nothing to suggest this is connected,” she offers, a little shortly.

 

“Like hell,” he bites. “This is the same bastard and we both know  _ who  _ that bastard is!”

 

“Dammit, Killian, I can’t do this with you,” Emma groans, trying to hold on to her composure. She leans across the desk. “There is a procedure, a way of doing things. I can’t just go barging in on people with no actual evidence. In that regard, nothing has changed.”

 

Killian stares at her for a long minute before slamming his hand down on the desk in frustration. He rises out of his seat and heads for the door. Emma stops him once he’s got his hand on the doorknob.

 

“I really am sorry.”

 

-/-

 

Emma can deal with the surly moods of Killian Jones later. Right now, her main concern is that girl and, after that, the apparent leak in her department. She doesn’t so much care  _ who  _ told someone, just that now that it’s out there it’s only a matter of time before it makes it’s way to Regina. Emma needs to have at least some answers before then.

 

She starts a file and, against her better judgement pulls down another file to compare anything she finds with. It’s been almost a century since a Story was murdered in Storybrooke. Killian, despite his anger and person feelings, is right about it being eerily similar to the last one. Emma refuses to cloud her judgement by reviewing the actual file but keeps it handy just in case. She remembers it well enough anyway.

 

Once she’s started the paperwork with Trish’s information, she heads back down to the business office. The line has only gotten longer since she and Killian had walked by it less than an hour ago. Emma earns a few glares as she ignores the impatient people waiting for an audience with the Deputy Mayor and slips into the office. Snow is being barked at by an angry blonde and Emma continues past them, trusting Snow to be able to handle her job.

 

Walsh had deposited Trish on a stone slab in one of the back catacombs and it takes Emma a minute to figure out which one. The scene in the alley had been horrifying, seeing her now is just heartbreaking. The blood is gone now, except for what clings to her hair and soaks her clothes. Emma sighs before continuing across the room to the body. The heart sits next to her on the slab like a crushed and discarded soda can.

 

A fresh wave of nausea hits Emma but she forces herself to power through it.

 

She starts with the chest wound. The marks are odd, not like any knife or weapon Emma’s ever seen. Something niggles at the back of her mind, makes a shiver roll down her spine. Trish’s skin has turned nearly as grey as the stone beneath her and Emma considers the act of removing her heart, crushing it the way it had been. There’s rage in the act. It might not have been the driving force for the crime itself, Emma is hesitant to label it without more answers, but there’s a disturbing amount of anger regardless.

 

Strength, too, to crush the thick muscle in such a way. She had considered, perhaps, that a disgruntled customer may have cornered Trish and murdered her in retaliation for a bad reading. Emma doesn’t know that a Mundy has the ability to do this, though.

 

She scribbles the few new thoughts into the file she’d brought with her. It’s not much but it could be less so she’ll take it. She also makes a mental not to give Dr. Frankenstein a call. Assuming he’s in a better state than he’d been in last night, he might be able to tell her something she can’t ascertain herself.

 

On a whim, she reaches forward and gently pats the pockets of Trish’s jacket. Triumphantly, she pulls the woman’s phone from one of them and switches it on. She skims through the contacts and messages. There are a lot of unsaved numbers that seem to belong to customers but Emma does recognize one name that Trish seemed to contact often. It’s somewhere to start.

 

When Emma leaves, she makes it to the mouth of the hallway where it opens up into the main room of the business office and immediately hears Regina’s voice. It carries loudly through the space and Emma knows even for Regina that means she’s yelling  _ loudly _ .

 

“-anyone tell me?” She’s barking at Snow when Emma finally makes it to the point where she can actually make out the words. “I am  _ Mayor  _ of this town. I am the one who makes these decisions!”

 

Emma steps around a bookshelf finally putting herself in view of the scene. She raises an eyebrow at Regina’s statement. The woman is hardly an elected official. She’d assumed mayorship upon creation of the town. Regina had actually been instrumental in the opening and traversing of many of the portals - despite her initial distaste for the idea. The Amnesty Charter had negated all her previous crimes and, despite it all, there was no reason why she couldn’t be. She’d been a ruler in the Enchanted Forest much longer than either of Emma’s parents.

 

It all seemed a bit like bullshit to Emma but who was she to make waves in government?

 

“Are you suggesting we shouldn’t investigate this murder?” Emma asks, tucking the folder and cell phone behind her back. Killian hadn’t seemed to know who the victim was so Emma is hoping that means Regina hasn’t been given that particular piece of information either.

 

“Miss Swan,” Regina sighs, “I am concerned for our operational costs, as I always am. Of course, we should investigate but we have to be frugal about it. That doesn’t mean the matter should have been kept from me.”

 

She turns her glare back on Snow. Emma thinks her mother is wise enough to let Regina tirade herself out at the point. Emma never really learned that lesson herself.

 

“It was my direction not to tell you, actually, Madam Mayor,” Emma tells her. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

Regina raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were concerned for my  _ comfort _ .”

 

“No,” Emma admits. “But I wanted the chance to question you myself before you heard word from someone else.”

 

To her credit, Regina seems genuinely surprised by the accusation. Emma tilts her head, waits for a reaction from the Mayor.

 

“ _ Question  _ me?” She asks, a ridiculing chuckle in her voice like Emma has lost her mind. “I thought you were supposed to be competent.”

 

“We could talk in private if you want,” Emma offers and Regina’s eyes go a little sharp while she lets out another titter at the insinuation. She makes no move to continue the conversation somewhere else. Emma shrugs. “No? Okay, then. The woman was named Trish, you two had a history in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

“All of which was pre-amnesty. You’re out of your depth, Miss Swan,” she informs her. “If you’re going to investigate this murder I suggest you go out and find yourself an  _ actual  _ suspect instead of wasting my time.”

 

Regina turns on her heel and heads out of the business office, ignoring the calls for her attention from the waiting citizens. Snow stares after her before standing from her desk to join Emma.

 

“Honey, I love you, so I only ask this because I care about you,” Snow starts. “Are you  _ insane _ ?”

 

Emma pulls her file back from around her back and turns to her mother. She shrugs and holds the file up for Snow to see. The flap has Trish’s name scribbled across it.

 

“They have a history,” she says simply. “And I  _ am  _ going to find who killed this woman. Even if it was our  _ dear  _ Mayor.”

 

Snow lets out a heavy breath and nods. Emma gives her one last look before following Regina’s path out of the business office. Snow calls out for the next person as Emma opens the door and a man files into the office. Emma turns and heads back to her office. Her ass has barely touched down on her chair when the door opens again and her father is charging into the office, closing the door behind him.

 

“Dad?” She asks, surprised at the intrusion. He usually gives her a call to make sure it’s a good time. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I was hoping you could tell me honestly,” David says and Emma frowns at him. “Red shows up well after operational hours to pull your mother from bed and when she gets back not only does she look about as scared as I’ve ever seen her but she can’t tell me why. Now I’m hearing whisperings that someone was  _ murdered _ . What’s happening, Emma?”

 

Emma sighs, frustrated with herself for forcing her mother to keep the secret. Mostly, she’d just wanted it to stay out of the general populace and away from Regina. Both of which failed spectacularly.

 

“I didn’t think that she’d think I meant not to even tell you,” Emma offers apologetically. “But yeah, Red found a body last night. A woman. I shouldn’t go into the full details but, gods, it was  _ bad _ . Mom didn’t even see the body and it shook her up that much.”

 

David drops into the chair across from her desk and scrubs his hand over his face. Emma figures they’re only at the beginning of their trying times. She can only see it getting worse before it gets better.

 

“Jesus,” David breathes finally. “And you saw it? How are you doing?”

 

Emma shrugs, hesitant to admit the way the sight had affected her. Doing so will only add another worry onto David’s shoulders who in turn will tell her mother. It’s not a good situation. Emma has been doing this job long enough, she’s seen enough shit, she can compartmentalize.

 

“It wasn’t pretty but I’ll be alright,” she answers and David nods like he doesn’t doubt that in the least. Emma waves a hand over her desk where Trish’s file sits next to the file she’d pulled out earlier. “I should get back to it, though. Regina’s already pissed at me for accusing her so now I have to find some actual evidence.”

 

David raises his eyebrows in surprise at the comment but nods, rising from the chair.

 

“Say no more. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I mean it, anything,” he insists and Emma can’t stop the smile at the sentiment.

 

“Of course,” she nods and David offers her one last grin before heading out of her office. Emma hopes he’ll check on Snow next. She hadn’t noticed anything off in her mother’s behavior but Emma thinks her mother is almost as good at hiding those thing as she is.

 

It’s odd, certainly, when your parents appear nearly the same age as you. Emma had been sent through one of the earliest portals that had been opened at eighteen. They’d needed a scout for this new world and she’d taken the assignment excitedly, proud to be helping her people and naive enough to be excited for the adventure it afforded her. Nimue, one of her family’s friends and a powerful sorceress, had placed an enchantment that allowed her to age, albeit slower than Mundys.

 

Emma had aged while her parents had continued to blossom in their youth. Once the Exodus ended, Nimue removed the enchantment. She no longer ages and neither do her parents, as long as people continue to believe in their stories. That’s how it always been assumed to work - the more people believe in your story, the more powerful and immortal you are.

 

Emma wonders vaguely what stories the Mundies believe about Trish.

 

Once David’s left the office, Emma picks up her desk phone and dials the hospital downtown to ask for Frankenstein. She’s put on hold for much longer than she’d like as a nurse fetches the good doctor. Victor had been one of the only non-magical physicians to make it out of the Enchanted Forest, though he didn’t originate there having crosses a portal himself to escape from his own land. Here, he works as a doctor at a hospital close to the city itself, treating anything that ails Stories while also treating Mundy patients.

 

“This is Dr. Frankenstein,” he answers eventually. He sounds much more sober than he had been last night and Emma takes that as a good sign. Maybe he won’t even remember her knocking him on his ass.

 

“It’s Emma Swan,” she says simply, not up for attempts at pleasantries. “If you can slip away, I need your expert medical opinion on something.”

 

“I don’t do house calls,” Victor grumbles. So, no such luck on him not remembering. Emma rolls her eyes and persists.

 

“Trust me, you’re gonna want to make this one,” she informs him, hesitant to go into too many details. “I need you to examine a corpse for me.”

 

There’s a prolonged silence and Emma figures she’s won this. Nothing gets people to do things they don’t want to do quite like mystery and intrigue. After a moment, Emma sighs and prompts him with his name.

 

“I’ll come down on my lunch break,” Victor says finally before giving Emma an approximate time and ending the call. She sets a reminder in her phone. It’s still pretty early in the day, due to her inability to get a full night’s sleep. It might actually be a good idea to have another set of eyes on this case. Red hadn’t been hanging around the business office helping Snow out which meant she’s probably off on an errand or been awarded the day off. Emma would bet it’s the latter after last night’s events.

 

She stares at the two files on her desk before picking her phone up again.

 

“ _ Ah _ , Sheriff, changed your mind, did you?” Killian asks when he answers. Emma resists the urge to hang up on him. It’s only the distinct lackluster attempt at smugness that reminds her why he may be the perfect help for this. She’ll just have to keep him on a leash and try not to let Regina find out.

 

“If you actually want to help find whoever killed  _ this  _ girl, get your ass down here,” she says. “Before I change my mind again.”


	2. dig up her bones, leave the soul alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thursdays are officially my upload date for this story! hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Emma is pacing back and forth in her office. Killian’s eyes follow her path from his chair as she reaches one wall, turns, makes her way back to the other wall and repeats the whole process. He’d shown up within five minutes of her phone call which has Emma suspicious that he hadn’t gone far when she’d turned him away initially, with the intention of following her around anyway.

 

“Okay, look, you’re not here in any official capacity,” she tells him, finally ending her pacing to turn to him. “You can’t ask any questions or accuse anyone of  _ anything _ . You’re allowed to listen and watch in case I miss anything. It’s been a long night and all I need is back up.”

 

“Aw, Swan, are you saying you don’t want to be my partner?”

 

Emma groans and shakes her head, opening her office door to motion for him to leave.

 

“Forget it, I’ve changed my mind. Get out,” she instructs. Killian jumps up, throwing his hand and hook up in defense. She’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be wearing his wooden hand under town rules, but doesn’t care enough to comment.

 

“I want to help, alright? I won’t make any trouble or ruffle any feathers,” he promises. “I’ll just stick to the background and watch for the details, sound good?”

 

Emma pushes her office door shut again and nods. Killian shifts his weight between his legs. Emma thinks he knows just how much she’s risking letting him tag along. The Amnesty Charter could only do so much in terms of erasing a person’s past. Emma’s spent enough time around Killian to trust him at least somewhat, but most people aren’t as forgiving.

 

Emma realizes the irony considering who their head of government is, but it’s not her job to make people trust the former pirate. It hadn’t happened overnight for her either. His years of seclusion haven’t helped endear him to anyone. His reasons are his own and Emma respects them. Most people spent so much time fearing his name and well... it’s hard to get coffee with a boogeyman.

 

She’s not going to tell him so, but Emma is kind of hoping people’s fear of him will help her.

 

“So, what’s our first move, Swan?” Killian asks. Emma steps past him to grab her jacket and phone from her desk. Trish’s phone is sitting on the desk as well, but Emma doesn’t think she’ll find anything else useful in it.

 

“The woman who Red found was named Trish,” Emma tells him pointedly. “She ran a fortune telling shop for Mundies. I’m going to talk to a friend of hers and you’re going to follow me of your own volition.”

 

A smirk grows on Killian’s face as understanding sets in. If Emma can claim Killian was following her on his own, without invitation, she might not be in as much trouble when it inevitably gets around to Regina. She’s just hoping she’ll have found something useful out before that happens.

 

“Well then, after you, Sheriff,” Killian offers with a sweeping gesture as he pulls the office door open. Emma gives him a look as she passes by, but he’s still smirking at her and completely unaffected.

 

-/-

 

It takes twenty minutes of checking Storybrooke’s usual haunts and asking around for them to find who they’re looking for. Cinderella is sipping a coffee at Granny’s and Emma hates to ruin her morning. Trish didn’t have any next of kin in her information, though, so assuming she and Cinderella were as close as Emma thinks, it’s as close as they’re going to get.

 

“Morning, Sheriff,” Cinderella greets easily and Emma has to force herself to take a step forward. “Stopping in for some breakfast?”

 

“Actually, Ella,” Emma starts gently. “I was looking for you. Do you think we could talk outside?”

 

Emma can see the moment it strikes. The shift in Ella’s facial expression that says she knows it’s bad. Frowning, she nods and leaves some money to pay for her coffee before following Emma outside. Killian is hovering outside the door, looking about as shady as possible and Emma shoots him a look. He responds with a confused eyebrow raise.

 

“What’s going on, Emma?” Ella asks, gripping the edges of her cardigan and wrapping them tighter around herself. It’s not terribly chilly outside, but Emma doubts the gesture is about warmth. “Is this about Trish?”

 

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Emma offers, every bit of compassion in her flowing into her voice. Her heart is breaking for the girl in front of her. There’s no such thing as a manageable loss. “We found her body this morning.”

 

“Her body?” Ella squeaks, her face visibly paling. Emma fears for a moment she may pass out and she even sees Killian take a step towards her as though he’s thinking the same thing. “I thought you were just gonna say she’d landed in the detention room or something. What do you mean you found her  _ body _ ?”

 

“We found her early this morning a few blocks north,” Emma explains. “Someone killed her.”

 

Ella covers her face with her hands, spinning away from Emma. It takes a few moments for her to compose herself. When she turns back there are tear tracks down her cheeks. Her hands shake where they still hover near her chin.

 

“I don’t understand. No one has been killed in Storybrooke in  _ ages _ ,” Ella says before her eyes widen and something else occurs to her. “Oh, gods, she tried to call me last night but I was too tired to answer. What happened to her?”

 

Emma glances warily in Killian’s direction. He seems to be studying Ella’s reaction closely. No alarm bells are sounding for Emma, she’d say the girl’s reaction is genuine.

 

“I can’t go into details,” she sighs, reaching out to place her hand gently on Ella’s bicep. “I was hoping I could talk to you about Trish and maybe the people in her life, though.”

 

“Oh, of course, I’m happy to help,” Ella says, swallowing roughly and reaching up to wipe the tears from her face roughly. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little-”

 

“It’s alright, Ella, take your time,” Emma assures her, squeezing her arm softly. The girl takes a few deep breathes, seems to steady herself a bit before nodding at Emma. They make their way back into the diner and Emma guides Ella to a back booth.

 

There aren’t many patrons, but between Emma’s sudden appearance, Ella’s pale face, and Killian, they’ve attracted attention. Two men at the counter glare at Killian as he passes and a couple in a booth suddenly go quiet. Emma figures any chance of a private conversation is completely shot.

 

“I’ll get you a water,” Emma offers as Ella slides in the booth. Emma shoots Killian a look, motioning for him to take a seat on the bench across from her. He gives a wary look, but follows the direction while Emma goes to the counter to order a water. She shoots the two men a dark look as she waits.

 

“So, you’re helping the sheriff out now?” Emma hears Ella ask as she heads back to the booth. Killian scratches behind his ear.

 

“Ah, mostly just keeping company,” he shrugs. “A concerned citizen trying to make sure we find whoever did this to your friend.”

 

Ella nods and Emma places the water in front of her, sliding into the booth next to Killian. Ella takes small sips from the glass and Emma thinks she’s probably working hard to seem braver than she is. Emma can relate.

 

“So, can you tell us about Trish?” Emma asks when she thinks she’s given Ella the proper amount of time. “Did you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?”

 

Ella lets out a deep sigh and shrugs her shoulders despondently. Emma thinks that’s probably a bad sign coming from your closest friend.

 

“I love Trish but she can be-” Ella catches herself, biting her lip and looking down at the table. She shreds a napkin to pieces between her fingers. “ _ Could  _ be a pain in people’s asses. She could have given her customers actual looks into their futures but mostly she just liked to mess with their heads. It wasn’t the greatest business model for return customers, you know?”

 

“The shop was failing?” Emma asks, surprised. The business had been going for decades, ever since the whole fortune telling craze had started.

 

“Trish was trying,” Ella sighs. “But she was looking into shutting down, trying something else. She didn’t keep up much of a repertoire with customers, though. You don’t think one of them could have done this, do you?”

 

“Officially, we have no reason to rule it out,” Emma admits. “But, personally, my gut says no. Can you tell us about anyone specific in Trish’s life who may have had a grudge against her?”

 

“Yeah, uh,” Ella nods, contemplating the question. “Well, I know Trish was behind on rent but - gods - I don’t think her landlord would have  _ killed  _ her over it! He could be a bit of an asshole but a  _ murderer _ ? And, um, Trish’s boyfriend - well,  _ ex _ -boyfriend, last she told me but you never could tell with them. He’s a dick, but Trish always found her way back. Honestly, I don’t know  _ what  _ he’s capable of.”

 

Emma glances at Killian. His brow is furrowed in concentration. She wonders if he’s even listening to the conversation at this point, so much for an extra set of ears. Nudging him, Emma smiles softly at Ella before asking for the information for Trish’s landlord and boyfriend.

 

“Thank you, Ella,” she says, once she’s gotten it, reaching over to pat the girl’s hand. “If you think of anything else unusual that happened to Trish over the past few days, come down to the business office and find me, okay?”

 

Ella nods and Emma slides back out of the booth, Killian following behind her. When Emma glances back down at her, Ella’s hands are shaking around her glass of water. It’s only a matter of time before the shock wears off and she’ll have to deal with grieving her friend. Killian is out of the diner before Emma even turns back, milling outside on the sidewalk. She huffs and follows after him.

 

“Okay, what the hell was that?” She bites once they’re outside and out of view of the patrons of the diner. “Were you even paying attention in there?”

 

“Of course I was, Swan, that’s why I’m here,” he responds, shaking his head at her insinuation. Emma glares at him while Killian glances back at the diner before waving for her to continue down the street with him. “But our dear Cinderella is hiding something, Sheriff.”

 

“What?” Emma asks, halting in her spot for a moment. “Killian, Ella didn’t kill Trish. Trust me, she wasn’t faking that reaction.”

 

“No,” Killian admits, shaking his head. “I don’t think she had any part in the murder of her friend. But I can tell she was hiding something. Perhaps not about Trish but there was  _ something  _ she was afraid you were gonna ask her.”

 

“What’s this?” Emma sighs, raising an eyebrow at him. “Pirate’s intuition?”

 

Killian grins and continues down the sidewalk without responding. Emma rolls her eyes and turns away from his retreating form in frustration. He doesn’t know what her next stop will be but he was there to hear the information for Trish’s landlord and boyfriend. Leaving him might mean him continuing his own investigation and Emma can’t take that kind of risk with her job after earlier.

 

Groaning, Emma turns to follow him down the street so they can at least stay on her schedule for the day. Something catches her eye in the alley across the street, though. That feeling of being watched prickles on her skin and she takes a step forward, squinting to try to make out something in the shadows. There’s something like a light purple glow in pinpricks, like animal eyes, but Emma can’t place it.

 

“Where to next, Swan?” Killian calls suddenly, pulling her attention away. Emma glances at him and he’s stopped at some point so he’s within shouting distance. When she glances back towards the alley, the lights are gone.

 

Emma jogs the distance between her and Killian, slowing to a walk when she reaches him but continuing past. There’s still a tingle on her skin. She resolves to worry about it later.

 

“Now, we need to talk to a man about a corpse,” she announces.

 

-/-

 

Killian gets restless waiting for Victor but Emma isn’t about to risk having him show up, find out she’s not there, and leave without helping her out. Victor is just dramatic enough to do exactly that. After their encounter last night, Emma’s gonna have to pull out all the stops to keep Victor in a good enough mood to help her.

 

On second thought, maybe she should have sent Killian home for this one.

 

Killian is tapping his thumb against her desk, the metal ring around it clanking against the fake wood and putting Emma on edge. She picks up Trish’s file and whacks his hand. He startles, looking up at her in surprise. Emma gives him a serious look. Frowning, he pulls his hand away from the desk.

 

“We’re wasting time sitting here,” Killian grits out, flexing his fingers as if Emma had hit him harder with the file than she had. She rolls her eyes. “The murderer could be leaving town.”

 

“Well, the good news is if it is who you think it is, there’s no way he’d leave the safety of the town,” Emma points out. Killian grimaces at the thought. There’s a knock on the frosted window in the office door and Red pushes the door open.

 

“Hey, Victor’s here to see you,” she informs Emma, raising an eyebrow when Killian jumps up from his seat. Emma sighs and nods at Red.

 

“Thanks, Red,” she says, offering a weary smile as she pushes up from her seat as well. “I thought my mom had given you the day off.”

 

Red shakes her head as Killian pushes out of the office and Emma joins her by the door. They head down the hallway towards the business office.

 

“She certainly tried, but I just needed some sleep.That’s all,” Red explains and Emma squeezes her arm. She catches the scent of smoke on the other woman, though, and scrunches her nose up. Killian is waiting outside the door to the business office, earning glares from the people in line, and Red leads them inside.

 

“Have you been smoking?” Emma asks, a hint of judgement in her tone that even makes her cringe. Red rolls her eyes.

 

“Yes,” she sighs. “I needed something to dull my sense of smell.”

 

Emma remembers, vividly, the smell of blood in the alley and that it had been so strong for Red it had woken her up. She offers an apologetic grimace. Red waves her off, leading them to where Victor is lingering by Snow’s desk. There’s no one sitting in the seat opposite of Snow’s and Emma wonders what the people in line outside must be thinking of their group storming their way in.

 

“Where is the body?” Victor asks as soon as they reach him, cutting right to the point. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

 

Emma crosses her arms and holds her stance.

 

“First, I need your assurance that everything we talk about and anything you see stays in this room,” she instructs. “I don’t need you leaving this building and causing panic, alright?”

 

“I’m a  _ doctor _ ,” Victor points out, rolling his eyes. “Discretion is kind of our thing. Now can we do this?”

 

Emma nods and leads the way back to the catacomb where Trish’s body is still laid out on the stone slab, just the way Emma had left it earlier. Part of her had been afraid they’d reach the room only to find out someone had already snuck in and gotten rid of the body. It’d be hard for anyone to sneak into the business office, but Emma doesn’t put much past this town anymore.

 

Snow makes it the first few steps into the room before stalling at the sight of Trish on the slab. They haven’t even gotten to the truly nightmare inducing part and Emma doesn’t want to add anymore unnecessary stress to her mother’s mind. She remembers her conversation with David earlier and reaches out for Snow’s hand.

 

“You don’t actually have to be here for this,” she offers softly. No one else seems to have taken note of Snow’s reluctance. She could probably duck out now and no one would realize.

 

“No,” Snow insists, shaking her head and advancing forward. “No, I’m fine. It’s just a shock, is all.”

 

Emma sighs and follows her mother, rejoining the group now crowded around Trish’s body. Emma had kind of thought the sight would lose its effect after the time she’s spent around it. Still, her breath catches slightly when she comes in view of the wound in her chest. Victor is bent over the crushed heart, almost too close as far as Emma is concerned, but he seems to really be considering it. Killian’s jaw is tight, gaze locked on the hole in her chest, and Red seems to be looking everywhere but at the actual body.

 

Emma sighs and puts her focus on Victor.

 

“Astounding,” he breathes and Emma pulls a face at him.

 

“Is that your professional medical opinion?” She asks, a bit of a bite to her voice. Victor glances up at her and Emma crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“I’m merely amazed at the state of the heart,” he explains. “It’s an incredibly strong muscle, to crush it in such a way would require an immense amount of power. More power than just anyone possesses.”

 

Emma nods, frowning down at the body and considering this. She’d already known for the most part but having Victor confirm it makes her stomach clench up. Victor shifts his attentions to the wound in her chest. He hums to himself a few times while inspecting it and Emma, despite her annoyance, resolves to leave him to his process.

 

Killian misses the memo.

 

“Care to share with the rest of us, mate?” He asks and Emma shoots him a look. He avoids her gaze, eyes focused on the doctor. Victor shoots Killian an unimpressed look but straightens up so he’s no longer hovering over Trish.

 

“It’s an unusual wound, for sure,” he comments. “The cuts aren’t clean like you’d see from a normal knife or ribbed like a serrated knife. They don’t look like the marks from any weapon I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Fuck,” Emma breathes. “I was afraid you were gonna say that. Knowing how her heart was removed could have really helped.”

 

“I said it didn’t look like any  _ weapon  _ I’ve seen, Sheriff,” Victor continues, cutting off Emma’s destructive train of thought. She’s tired of having next to nothing to go on. “I have seen marks like this before.”

 

“Well, what could have made them?” Emma asks, patience wearing thin. Victor raises one hand up into the air and bends his fingers into a claw formation, scratching at the air. Snow gasps next to Emma, covering her mouth with her hand. Emma stares at the doctor for a moment, stunned. “You’re saying her heart was  _ scratched  _ out?”

 

Victor shrugs, “In my  _ professional medical opinion _ , yes.”

 

The room goes silent for a minute. Emma can see Snow is still trying to absorb the information and notices Killian’s hand flexing and unflexing in agitation out of the corner of her eye. Red is chewing one of her nails. When she glances back to him, Victor seems to be contemplating something.

 

“Sheriff,” Victor starts slowly, glancing warily at Killian, “I can’t help but notice that this wound is similar to the one from the last murder. I didn’t know how to classify the wound then but now…”

 

Emma nods and thanks Victor for his help before dismissing him and everyone else. Killian doesn’t move though, catching her wrist with his hook as she turns to leave. He’s silent as he waits for everyone else to file out of the catacomb.

 

“Even our good doctor is making the connection now, Swan,” he points out once they're alone. “Are you willing to yet?”

 

Emma sighs, pulling her arm out of the curve of his hook.

 

“I pulled out Milah’s file after you left this morning,” she admits. Killian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I was there, too, remember? I’m just trying to do this in the best possible way. I’m going to operate under the assumption that there’s a connection between the two murders but what you want me to do-”

 

“Get the bastard, you mean,” Killian interjects.

 

“Accuse one of our highest elite without a shred of  _ actual evidence _ ,” Emma corrects. “I’m not saying Rumplestiltskin isn’t dirty but attacking him like this - he’d never stand for it, Killian. He’d have my job and your head. I am trying to protect us both.”

 

Killian stares at her for a moment, jaw ticking as he contemplates her. She knows this is hard for him, but she can’t have him running off into the fire without so much as a bottle of water.

 

“I’m not interested in protection,” he grits. “I want justice.”

 

“And I am gonna do everything in my power to get it,” Emma promises. “But if you can’t respect my way of doing things, I can’t have you helping me with this anymore.”

 

Emma turns and walks away from him, out of the catacombs. Snow stops her on the way out to discuss the level of discretion needed and whether they should tell Regina about Victor’s findings. Emma is still in favor of keeping the mayor in the dark until she can absolutely negate her as a suspect. She needs to get a few straight answers out of her first.

 

Killian passes by her, out of the business office and Emma doesn’t watch him leave but hears the door shut behind him.

 

“Is he helping with this?” Snow asks, gaze locked warily on the door he’d just disappeared through. Emma sighs and shrugs.

 

“Sort of,” Emma explains. “I’d rather have him on my side than working his own search. It’s just hard for him.”

 

Snow nods in understanding, patting Emma’s shoulder in reassurance. Emma gives her mother a tired smile before turning and heading out of the office herself.

 

Milah had been the last Story murdered in Storybrooke almost a hundred years ago. The woman had been Rumplestiltskin’s wife in the Enchanted Forest. No one knew the real story behind her leaving him, but when they’d settled in Storybrooke, she was getting very chummy with Killian. Emma didn’t know either of them very well during that time, but from every time she saw them, she’d say they were actually in love.

 

Killian had found Milah in their home, heart ripped out and crushed, left behind for him to find. He’d been their first suspect, naturally, but he always insisted Rumplestiltskin had been the real culprit. Graham, the sheriff at the time, had liked Rumplestiltskin for it as well, but they couldn’t touch him for the same reason they’d eventually had to let Killian go - there wasn’t a shred of evidence to point to either of them.

 

Killian went into seclusion for a few years afterwards. It didn’t matter that he loved Milah or that his past crimes were supposed to be just that, the town needed someone to blame. The ex-pirate lover made for an easy target. Emma couldn’t really blame them, it had taken a couple years of Killian’s visits to the sheriff’s office to make Emma trust him.

 

When she pushes the door to her office open, Killian is sitting in the guest chair. He looks properly chagrined, but offers no apology or explanation.

 

“What’s our next move, Sheriff?” He asks instead. Emma can only shake her head at him.

 

-/-

 

Emma leaves Killian waiting for her in the office while she heads down the hall to the elevator. She takes it all the way up the building to the penthouse. She figures the best way to make sure Regina doesn’t get the information Dr. Frankenstein gave them before Emma wants her to is by telling Regina herself. The Nottingham Apartments complex rises up higher than the other buildings on the block that makes up Storybrooke. It houses a large portion of the populace, in addition to the business office, so it requires the room, but the entirety of the top floor is dedicated to the mayoral penthouse.

 

Regina even keeps an enchanted rooftop orchard of small but blossoming apple trees. Emma figures that change or not, there are some habits you just can’t quit. The elevator leads up to the inside of the penthouse and you need special a special keycode to use the button. Once at the top, there’s still a separation between the elevator doors and the penthouse in the form of a large, black door. Emma knocks.

 

“Sheriff Swan,” Regina frowns upon opening the door. Emma smirks and lifts her hand to wag her fingers in a wave, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Regina. “I assume you’re here because you’ve found another suspect in the murder?”

 

“I’m following a few leads,” Emma shrugs. “But I brought Dr. Frankenstein by to consult. He found something interesting I thought you might want to know about.”

 

“Ah, and you thought you should actually report it to me,  _ your boss _ , rather than letting it reach me through the grapevine? That’s almost professional of you,” Regina smirks, waving Emma into the lavish apartment. Emma hides her grimace as she steps over the threshold. Regina pushes the door closed behind her and leads her into the open living room. Glass panel windows give a perfect view of the orchard outside. “So, what is it our Dr. Frankenstein has found?”

 

“He figured out how the heart was removed,” Emma says, turning away from the windows to face Regina. The mayor doesn’t even blink and Emma figures that detail had reached her as well. “It was clawed out.”

 

To her credit, Regina’s eyes go wide and she seems genuinely surprised by the news. She doesn’t move from her spot though, collecting herself quickly and crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Alright, and what are you doing to find the person who did it?” Regina asks.

 

“For starters, I’m questioning you,” Emma states, mirroring the other woman’s stance. Regina’s eyes narrow.

 

“I thought you had another lead,” she comments and Emma shrugs.

 

“I’m looking into them, but I thought I’d start with my instincts,” Emma explains. Regina rolls her eyes but Emma presses on. “You and the victim had a history in the Enchanted Forest. I want to know about it. If you can convince me for certain that you didn’t kill her, I’ll mark you off the suspect list.”

 

Regina’s look turns to a glare. Emma knew exactly the kind of ire she would be attracting by coming up here but she’s not about to back down. She has confidence that, if Regina did kill Trish, she wouldn’t make a repeat performance here. The majority of the decor is white and Emma doesn’t see the mayor cleaning blood off of it.

 

“That was pre-amnesty,  _ Sheriff _ ,” Regina spits. “You don’t have any legal right to ask me about that. I shouldn’t even dignify it with a response, but in the interest of clearing my name of this sordid business, I will. Trish was just another sorceress vying for the same apprenticeship I was. We were rivals and eventually I won out. Hardly a reason to kill her, I’d say.”

 

Emma contemplates that. Regina is telling the truth, she can tell, and despite her own personal distrust for the woman, Emma has to agree it’s hardly a good reason for murdering Trish. Dropping her arms, Emma nods once.

 

“Alright, fine, you’ve convinced me,” Emma admits. “I’ll let this go, for now, and pursue my other leads.”

 

Regina waves a hand towards the entryway, leading Emma back out the way she’d come in. Emma follows but Regina stalls her just short of reaching the door, her hand landing on Emma’s forearm in a tight grip. She holds her calm exterior but Emma can see a rage in her eyes.

 

“Last thing, Miss Swan,” she says. “You’d do good to remember whose hands your job lies in. Graham may have blessed you with the job, but I can take it away.”

 

Emma’s stomach rolls, less from the threat and more at Regina’s use of Graham’s name. She tugs her arm roughly away from Regina’s grip and takes the last few steps to the front door, exiting and getting into the elevator without a backward glance.

 

When she reaches her office on the first floor, Killian picks up on her mood instantly. He watches her warily from his chair as she rounds her desk to gather her things and head back out. He follows her out of Nottingham and waits until they're out in the courtyard to ask her about Regina.

 

“She threatened my job pretty enthusiastically,” Emma tells him, glancing upwards toward where the building touches the sky. “But I don’t think she killed Trish.”

 

Killian nods, easily agreeing with her assessment. Emma doesn’t know if it’s because he actually trusts her ability to do her job or if it’s because he’s ready to hang his own suspect for this. Emma pulls her notepad from her jacket pocket and reads over the information for Trish’s landlord and her boyfriend.

 

“So, who do we start with?” Killian asks, leaning towards her to catch a glimpse of the notebook. “The slimy landlord or the unreliable lover?”

 

“You make it sound like a movie,” Emma says shaking her head, unable to keep from smiling at him. He returns it and Emma realizes pretty quickly that lightening her mood had been the goal. He might not be such a bad partner to have after all. “We’ll start with the boyfriend. He seems more likely to skip town if he did it. The landlord has a building and livelihood to tend to.”

 

Killian nods, waving his hand out towards the gate leading out of the Nottingham courtyard and onto the sidewalk, “Lead the way, Swan.”

 

-/-

 

When they reach the boyfriend’s apartment, there are a few residents out in the hall. Emma hears a commotion from upstairs and turns to ask someone what’s happening but most of them have ducked back inside their homes when they spotted her. There’s a loud shout and the sound of something hitting the floor.

 

“Shit,” Emma groans, heading up the stairs to find the floor where the noise seems to be coming from. She looks back at Killian and commands, “Stay here.”

 

He looks ready to argue, but there’s another loud shout from above and Emma gives him a pleading look so he complies. She takes the stairs two at a time, halting on the second floor for only a moment before continuing upwards. There’s a door slightly ajar on the fourth floor where the sounds seem to be coming from. Emma realizes as she eases closer that it’s Trish’s boyfriend’s place.

 

She lingers outside the door for a minute, trying to hear the conversation happening inside.

 

“What did you do to her?!” A rough accented voice growls. “How did you manage to pull her heart from her chest like that?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man! I  _ loved  _ Trish!” Emma assumes that the responding voice is Trish’s boyfriend. The answer is punctuated by the what sounds like a body slamming into something wooden. Emma decides she can’t risk letting this get any rougher and pushes the door open.

 

“Hey!” She shouts, gaining the attention of both men in the room. One of them, a skinny, pale man with dark red hair, is slouched inside of a broken bookshelf, the shelves and contents spilled around him. The other man narrows his eyes at Emma and it strikes her how brightly violet they are, almost as though they glow.

 

“You,” she says, pointing at him. “You were following me earlier.”

 

Inexplicably, he grins at her before climbing out of the open window. Emma rushes to it, looking down in search of him but finding no trace. At a scraping noise, she looks up to see him climbing his way up the building, fingers digging into the bricks like claws. Emma curses to herself before running out of the room and following the stairwell all the way up to the roof. She pushes through the door just in time to see the man leap over the lip of the building and land on the roof. His eyes land on her for a moment before he takes off, running over the roof towards the next building over. Emma hopes he doesn’t think he could make the jump between them.

 

“Hey, stop,” she shouts, following after him. Despite his head start, Emma manages to catch up enough to snatch at the back of his dark coat. He lets out something that sounds like a hiss as she yanks him backwards, both of them tumbling to the cement. Emma rolls onto all fours to push herself up onto her feet.

 

The man rolls onto all fours as well, but doesn’t push himself to his feet, instead Emma watches as a purple smoke encircles him. Suddenly, Emma isn’t looking a man anymore, but a five-foot tall, purple cat. It chuffs in her direction and Emma takes a step backwards, cornering herself against the cement wall of the stairwell.

 

“You should have left well enough alone, Sheriff,” the cat growls, a grin pulling its lips back to bare two rows of sharp teeth. It prowls towards her and Emma takes a deep breath, lifting her hands into a defensive position and pushing energy outwards. A glow overtakes the skin of her palms and the cat lets out a cry as it goes toppling backwards from the blast.

 

It’s not enough to knock it out, though, and Emma sees its body shifting as it regains its footing. Emma shakes her hands out and tries to weigh her options. She doesn’t think she has a blast strong enough in her to knock the cat out without throwing it over the edge and risking killing it or someone below.

 

Through sheer luck, she notices a discarded pipe pressed up against the wall of the stairwell. She reaches down, snatching it up just as the cat pounces and swings at the last moment. The cat’s attack misses her as the pipe collides with its side, but it gets up again and, lightening fast, has Emma flat on her back. It presses a paw into her chest to keep her down, slowly pushing its claws in and out like a kneading kitten. It’s not enough pressure to break the skin but the threat is clear.

 

“Let this be a warning,” the cat hisses. “I’m not allowed to eat you, but next time, I might just forget that instruction.”

 

It removes its paw from Emma’s chest and rears it back. With one strong swipe, everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am voldemort and reviews are my unicorn blood!


	3. heart with a gaping hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter three! not everything is as it may seem in this world of magic and deception. enjoy!

When Emma comes to, Killian is kneeling over her. He releases a breath when her eyes flutter open and Emma groans. There’s a stinging in her cheek and a hot, itchy sensation on her chest just above the neckline of her top.

 

“I am definitely a dog person,” she mumbles, pushing herself into a sitting position. Killian raises an eyebrow at the statement and offers his hand to steady her. Emma leans into him heavily as he helps her to her feet.

 

“What happened up here, Emma?” He asks and Emma can recognize the concern in his voice as she rolls her shoulders, easing the tension from where they’d been pressed to the concrete. “I heard the scuffle stop so I came up to investigate and found a destroyed apartment with a banged up lad who said you’d run to the roof.”

 

Emma sighs and shakes the ache out of her hands. The metal pipe is a few feet away on the roof but Emma thinks using it might have left her with more bruises than her adversary. She lifts her hand and wipes lightly at the sting in her cheek, pulling it away to find specks of blood on her fingertips. No chance of hiding that.

 

“Great,” she sighs. Killian’s hand comes to her jaw, noticing the wound for the first time and tilting her head to get a better look. Emma can heal it when she gets back to the office. “Trish’s boyfriend was getting his ass kicked by some guy. I chased him up here and it turned out that guy was actually a giant cat.”

 

“Cheshire?” Killian asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Emma nods and Killian’s eyes drop to her chest. She frowns as Killian nods his head towards her. “That explains those.”

 

Emma looks down as far as she can and immediately spots what Killian is referring to. Where the cat’s claws had dragged over her chest, the skin is raised and red. Her hand comes up to rub her chest as she pouts. That explains the itch, at least.

 

“You know him?” Emma grunts and Killian nods.

 

“We’ve had a run-in or two,” he tells her. “Cats are carnivores, Emma, and Chesh is about as bloodthirsty as they come. He’d eat his own friends for a chance at freshmeat. Not someone to be trifled with.”

 

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have trifled with me first,” Emma huffs, letting her hand fall from her chest. She reaches for the edges of her leather jacket, tugging them together and pulling the zipper up to her neck. “He was following us this morning, at the diner. Now, he turned up here. I don’t like coincidences.”

 

“He mostly works as muscle for hire these days,” Killian shrugs. “He may be working for whoever killed Trish. Trying to make sure we don’t get too close.”

 

Emma turns away from him, examining the skyline as she contemplates that. The unconsciousness is making things blurry but she can remember what little she’d heard of the conversation Cheshire had been having with Trish’s boyfriend. It didn’t sound like the cat knew who had murdered Trish either.

 

“We should go back downstairs and talk to the boyfriend,” Emma sighs. “At least now we have more than one thing to ask him about.”

 

Killian nods, though he’s still frowning at her. His hand comes up again, lingers in the air near her cheek before he thinks better of it. It falls limply at his side.

 

“You alright, love?” He asks quietly, studying her face like he expects more injuries to appear. “Gave me quite a scare.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says, pulling her eyes away from his gaze. “It’s just a scrape from my cheek hitting the pavement, I’ll be fine. I can heal it myself once I get back to the office.”

 

“Alright, then,” Killian nods. “Shall we?”

 

Emma nods and follows Killian as he rounds the exterior of the stairwell back to the door Emma had come through on her way up. She considers that she doesn’t actually know how long she was unconscious for. Killian tugs the door open and waves her through and Emma leads their way back down the stairwell and into the apartment.

 

The man has only made it a few feet away from the broken bookshelf, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Emma eases her way into the destruction, knocks twice on the open door as she passes. His head pops up at the sound.

 

“Are you Grif?” She asks. The man nods but makes no move to get up from the floor. Emma wonders if he might be injured.

 

“You here to tell me about Trish?” He asks, punctuating the sentence with a sniff. He wipes his sleeve across his eyes. “Because someone else sort of beat you to the punch.  _ Literally _ .”

 

Emma sighs but nods nonetheless. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you a couple questions,” she tells him. “I didn’t expect you to have company. What did Chesh want from you?”

 

“Cheshire?” Grif frowns. “The guy beating on me was that mangy cat? He just burst in, no warning or anything, and started kicking me around, asking me questions about Trish. It wasn’t until he started shouting about her heart that I realized he was saying she was dead.”

 

“Why would he think you hurt Trish?” Emma asks carefully. Killian is moving about around her, examining the space under the guise of picking up some of the broken things. It’s a good move, actually, Emma is a little jealous she didn’t think of it first.

 

“The same reason you do, I imagine,” Grif shrugs, tucking his head lower towards his chest. Emma recognizes the move as defensive, an isolation tactic. “I’m the shitty boyfriend, right? Hey, man, don’t touch that!”

 

Grif’s head snaps up again suddenly as Killian nears a cabinet in the kitchenette. He lifts his hand up in front of him and backs away from the cabinet, shooting Emma a look. Emma turns her attention back to Grif as he tucks back into himself once Killian has stepped away from the kitchenette.

 

“We talked to one of Trish’s friends who didn’t seem to know if you  _ were  _ Trish’s boyfriend,” Emma points out.

 

“Who was that? Cinderella? Yeah, she never liked me. Always thought I didn’t treat Trish right and, look, she was right. I didn’t deserve Trish but I did love her.” Grif cuts himself off to bury his face in his hands. His shoulders shake slightly and Emma waits patiently for him to resurface. Once he does, he continues in a thick voice, “It was hard, okay? We were both struggling just to live and we were stressed so we fought. Sometimes we took it out on each other but, gods, I always thought that one day we’d just- we’d figure it out, you know?”

 

Emma sighs and nods in understanding. If Cinderella was right about Grif’s nature, he’s certainly hiding it well. Emma actually believes he loved Trish, even if they were a mess. Killian shifts over to Emma’s side again, done with his inspection of the apartment. Emma figures it’s a good idea to wrap it up with Grif. Maybe they can still make it to the landlord before it gets dark.

 

“Did Cheshire say anything about who he worked for?” She asks and Grif shakes his head, swiping his sleeve over his eyes again.

 

“Nah, he just kept asking about Trish,” Grif shrugs and finally picks his head up to look around his apartment. “Jesus, look at this place. My landlord is gonna pitch a fucking fit.”

 

“I’m sorry, Grif,” Emma offers, knowing she can’t really solve any of his current problems. “If you think of anything else, come down to the business office, alright?”

 

He barely even acknowledges them as Emma and Killian leaving, pulling the apartment door closed behind them. Once in the hallway, Emma lets out a heavy breath and leans back against the wall. Killian shifts so he’s standing in front of her and she shrugs at him.

 

“More dead ends, more questions,” she groans. “We’re getting nowhere. Did you notice anything about his apartment?”

 

“He has a drug problem,” Killian responds with a one shouldered shrug. “Not uncommon for Stories struggling for cash.”

 

“Could’ve had a part in his fights with Trish,” Emma agrees. “Doesn’t make him a killer, though.”

 

Emma uses her palms to push herself off the wall, groans as it puts pressure on the bruises forming on her hands. Killian doesn’t miss this, watching her cautiously. Emma ignores his concern and continues down the hall to the stairwell. The floors they pass are dead silent now that the commotion has passed. Outside, she turns back to Killian.

 

“What do you think, wanna go visit the landlord with me?” Emma asks. “See if we can’t break our dead end streak.”

 

Killian heaves a heavy sigh and looks her over. Emma raises an eyebrow at his gaze as Killian shakes his head.

 

“You’re injured, Swan, and were knocked unconscious,” he points out. “And how much sleep have you managed in the last twenty-four hours?”

 

“You know I have an actual mother, right?” Emma responds dryly. “Honestly, I’m fine. Actually, I’ll do you one better...”

 

Emma closes her eyes and lifts her hand to her face, dusting her fingertips centimeters over the scrape along her cheek. She doesn’t see the glow this time but she can feel the prickling in her skin, the energy flowing from them. Her cheek goes warm for a second and then Emma can’t feel the sting of the injury anymore. She opens her eyes to smirk at Killian who is staring at her in something like awe.

 

“Impressed?” She teases. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you speechless, Captain.”

 

Killian seems to shake himself out of it but the soft smile on his face sticks around.

 

“I forget sometimes,” he says and Emma raises an eyebrow. “How good magic can actually be. You wield it like it’s something beautiful rather than a tool of misery.”

 

Emma’s breath hitches at the sincerity in his words. Her magic hadn’t come easily, many years of training when she was younger only to lose it and have to learn to use it all over again in this new world. It’s not the same here but it’s not impossible, it takes more effort. Sometimes, it feels like more of a burden than a blessing but Killian is looking at her like she’s saved the town rather than healed a simple scratch.

 

“I still think you should head home and get some rest before continuing on this quest for justice,” Killian says, saving Emma from having to formulate a response. She smiles and pulls her gaze away from his, turning towards the street.

 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. So, landlord it is,” she comments, a chipper tone to her voice that feels a little foreign to her lately. She glances back at Killian. “You coming,  _ mom _ ?”

 

Killian grins, “Yes, darling.”

 

-/-

 

Trish’s building is only a single step up from Grif’s. The outside looks kept up enough, brick is hard to mess with besides the graffiti painted on the side. Inside, the paint is chipping and Emma is mildly concerned that if she and Killian try to climb the wooden staircase at the same time, it will simply give out.

 

Before Emma can work on finding out which apartment the landlord lives in, one of the doors behind them opens and someone emerges.

 

“Emma?” A deep, accented voice questions and Emma turns to face them, breathing out a slight sigh of relief at the friendly face. With the day she’s having, she wouldn’t be surprised to be attacked on sight at any moment.

 

“Merlin, hey,” she greets, crossing away from the questionable staircase to where Lancelot is standing in the open doorway. “I didn’t know you lived in this building.”

 

Merlin shrugs, shifting his feet and Emma can feel there’s a bit of discomfort there. She wonders if maybe she shouldn’t have commented. This isn’t one of the richer parts of Storybrooke but Merlin and her parents had always been friendly. Emma had spent much time around the sorcerer as a child, learning how to use her own powers from him and his wife.

 

“Yeah, we moved recently,” he explains. “Couldn’t keep up those Nottingham prices, you know?”

 

Emma frowns at him. Her rent comes right out of her paycheck since it all cycles through the Storybrooke government anyway. If rates go up, she only really notices when her paycheck shrinks some. It’s enough of a living wage for her, luckily, and Emma knows her parents wouldn’t let her move farther away than a few floors below them.

 

“I hadn’t realized it had gotten that bad,” Emma admits. Merlin just shrugs, brushing past the subject.

 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, switching topics.

 

“We’re looking for your landlord, actually,” Emma explains and Merlin shoots a wary look at Killian behind her. She wonders if he hadn’t realized they’d come in together. “We have a few questions for him.”

 

“Oh, well, he’s out right now,” Merlin nods before motioning back into his apartment. “You can wait for him in here if you want. He headed out a while ago and should be back any moment. We’ll hear him come in.”

 

Emma nods easily and Merlin leads the way back into his apartment but Killian catches Emma’s elbow gently, stopping her just short of passing through the doorway. Emma raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Swan, perhaps we shouldn’t just be entering strange apartments,” he suggests, motioning towards her cheek with his hook. “You remember what happened in that last one.”

 

“Relax, I know these people,” Emma assures him. “Trust me, the last thing they’re interested in is setting some sort of trap for us, alright?”

 

Killian seems to contemplate this for a beat before removing his hand from her elbow and motioning towards the door.

 

“If you trust them, so shall I,” he shrugs and Emma nods, turning to follow Merlin into the apartment.

 

It’s a small space but decorated well. It looks as cozy as Emma would expect from the people who live in the apartment. There’s a vase of pink flowers on the coffee table as soon as they enter that Emma recognizes as Middlemists. She wonders if they’re enchanted for preservation or if Nimue has discovered a way to grow them here.

 

The woman herself comes around the corner and into the living room where she immediately pulls Emma into an embrace. Emma pats her back a little awkwardly but smiles when Nimue pulls away nonetheless.

 

“Emma, it’s been so long,” she greets gently, raising a hand to Emma’s cheek. “You look tired, though, is everything alright?”

 

Emma hears Killian snicker behind her and shoots him a look. Nimue notices the exchange and offers Killian a smile, introducing herself.

 

“I’m just working on a case,” Emma explains once Nimue’s attention returns to her. “The apartment looks great, by the way. How are you keeping Middlemists alive in Storybrooke?”

 

“Trade secret,” Nimue grins, lifting her index finger and tapping it against her nose. Emma smiles at the gesture and Nimue captures Emma’s hand in her own. “Come to the kitchen, you two, and have a drink.”

 

Emma doesn’t have much choice as Nimue drags her gently by the hand. Killian chuckles behind her as he follows as well. Merlin is already in the kitchen, heating up water in a kettle. There’s a box of teabags and a tin of chocolate powder sitting on the counter.

 

“Tea or chocolate?” He asks as Nimue settles them at the kitchen table. He holds up a hand before either of them can answer. “Let me guess, Emma, chocolate?”

 

Emma smiles guiltily and Merlin shakes his head. Killian hesitates for a beat before asking for tea. Merlin nods.

 

“This is Killian, by the way,” Emma says, realizing the two hadn’t actually been introduced out in the hallway. “He’s sort of consulting on this case.”

 

“You’re talking about the murder of that girl, right?” Merlin asks, turning to lean back against the counter. Nimue slides into the seat across from Emma, interest showing in her features. “She used to live here, I figure that’s why you want to talk to Moe.”

 

“Yeah, I was hoping he’d let us into her apartment,” Emma nods. She figures it’s best to leave out her interest in whether their landlord had murdered someone over a few missed rent checks. There’s no reason to cause unnecessary worry for Merlin and Nimue. “Do you think he’d be willing to?”

 

“For the right price,” Nimue comments quietly. Merlin shoots her a look and she raises her hands in defense. “What? It’s true. Look, Moe is nice enough and everything, but most people in this building are just trying to get by. That includes him.”

 

“Has he ever gotten violent or anything with people who don’t pay on time?” Emma asks, aiming for casual. Judging by the surprised looks she receives from Merlin and Nimue, she doesn’t succeed.

 

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Merlin answers, shaking his head. “At least, not so long as we’ve been here. Moe’s kind of a grumpy old man, but he’s had a rough time, even before the Exodus.”

 

Emma frowns, but before she can ask anymore questions, the kettle begins to whistle on the stove. Merlin drops tea bags in mugs for Nimue and Killian and spoons chocolate powder into his and Emma’s. Once Emma is sipping at the hot cocoa, she feels the exhaustion from the last twenty-four hours weighing on her. It might not have been her best move to ignore Killian’s worry, but they have a killer to catch. She’ll sleep better knowing they’re off the street.

 

“So, how is the flower shop doing?” Emma asks, shaking herself out of her haze. She catches Killian’s gaze on the side of her face but ignores it.

 

“Well enough to keep the doors open,” Nimue says with a light shrug. “Lucky for us, the flower trade never does seem to die off.”

 

Nimue and Merlin had opened their flower shop not long after they’d all settled into their little corner of Brooklyn. They sold Mundy flowers as well as somehow managing to raise and sell flowers from the Enchanted Forest and other lands. The two had seen most of the lands outside of the Enchanted Forest in their voyages before having to seek refuge in the Mundy world with the rest of them.

 

“You own Oxleigh Arrangements?” Killian asks. Merlin nods, sliding into the chair next to Nimue’s. “I’ve shopped with you a few times. Your arrangements are exquisite.”

 

Emma glances at him in surprise. Nimue frowns as she studies his face and Killian shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

 

“Sorry,” Nimue smiles once she senses his discomfort. “I’m trying to place you. My memory isn’t what it used to be. A few centuries will do that to you.”

 

“That’s quite alright,” Killian says, waving off her apology. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a reason to buy flowers, I’m afraid.”

 

Nimue nods, accepting the response. Emma frowns at Killian as he gazes down into his mug. She notices movement under the table and catches him twisting his hook in his lap. Merlin turns the topic to ask about Emma’s parents and it distracts Emma from Killian’s change in mood. A few minutes later, they hear the building door close loudly outside the apartment. Heavy footfalls pass down the hallway and Merlin nods towards the wall shared by their kitchen and the building hallway.

 

“That’ll be Moe,” he explains, reaching across the table to clean up Emma and Killian’s mugs. “He’s in the last apartment, behind the staircase.”

 

Emma and Killian thank them for the drinks and the company while they waited before they make their way back out of the apartment. Emma hesitates halfway down the hall, reaching out to place her hand on Killian’s arm. He stops and turns to her in surprise.

 

“What’s wrong, Swan?” He asks. Emma chews her lip, unsure how to broach the topic.

 

“You bought flowers for Milah,” she says, the words coming out fast and unplanned. Killian lifts his hand to scratch behind his ear.

 

“Aye,” he nods, frowning at her. “Is that all that’s on your mind?”

 

“I just,” Emma starts. Her words fail her and she huffs in frustration. She’s not good at this. She should be, really. She talks to people all the time, easing details of crimes out of them. This feels different, though. Killian isn’t just a grief-stricken witness, he’s her friend. “I know that this can’t be easy on you, dredging all this up again. So, if you need to take a break from it or talk, or whatever, just let me know?”

 

She ends it like a question and Killian tilts his head at her. His eyes goes soft and Emma shifts under his gaze. She’s had her own fair share of loss and, even if she doesn’t need to talk about it, Killian might. Emma doesn’t know if he’d want to talk to her, but the offer is out there at least.

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, just as Emma’s beginning to fear she’s ruined their tenuous relationship. “Right now, though, I’d just like to find this murderer. After that, I’ll have all the catharsis I need.”

 

“What if the truth isn’t what you want it to be?” Emma asks cautiously. Killian seems to contemplate that for a moment, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

 

“Then, I suppose, it will still be the truth,” he admits. “That’s all I can ask for.”

 

Emma nods, satisfied with the answer, and continues down the hall to the landlord’s door. After they knock, there’s a bit of shuffling inside before the door opens. Moe French is a large, round faced man. He wears a white baseball cap and a frown as he looks them up and down.

 

“Can I help you?” He asks gruffly. Emma raises an eyebrow and shifts her stance into something more authoritative.

 

“I’m Sheriff Swan,” she explains. “We were hoping you could answer a few questions about one of your tenants.”

 

“What did Scarlet do now?” Moe groans. Emma has to bite back the smirk at the assumption, reminding herself of the very serious reason why she and Killian are here.

 

“Actually, it’s about Trish,” Emma corrects. “She was murdered last night.”

 

Moe’s eyes widen and he pulls the baseball cap off his head, twisting it and pressing it over his heart. Emma thinks the gesture is oddly appropriate.

 

“Gods help us,” Moe gasps. “She was?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Emma nods. “We were also hoping you would be able to let us into her apartment. It’d be very helpful to our investigation.”

 

At that, Moe seems to sober up. He straightens the cap out, replacing it on his head. Emma blinks at the sudden change. She could tell his reaction hadn’t been ingenuine so the shift throws her off. Moe shrugs at them, looking between her and Killian.

 

“Not sure I can do that,” he says. “Morally, and all that. Of course, perhaps for the right price.”

 

“We aren’t going to bribe you,” Emma deadpans. Moe glares at her, tucking his hands into the pockets of his brown coat. The gesture is clear without words. No financial lubrication, no apartment visits. Emma rolls her eyes. Suddenly, Killian lets out a huff before shoving his hand into the inside of his leather jacket. Emma watches him with wide eyes as he pulls out a circular piece of gold and shoves it into Moe’s suddenly open hand.

 

“Let me see if I can find my master key,” Moe says, disappearing back into his apartment. Emma turns and gives Killian a look.

 

“ _ Really _ ?” She asks. Killian smirks, waggling his eyebrows at her. They’ll be lucky if every person they talk to about this case from now on doesn’t expect a nice doubloon as payment for talking. Moe reappears, stepping out into the hall and pulling his apartment door shut behind him.

 

“Trish’s apartment is on the third floor,” he explains, leading them back down the hall to the staircase. Emma trails after him, trying not to be too peeved at Killian. As if sensing her disapproval, Killian trails behind a bit. Moe leads them up two flights of stairs and down the hallway of the third floor.

 

“That’s odd,” he comments, pulling up short at what Emma assumes is Trish’s door. She steps around him for a look. The door is pushed open slightly, the latch broken. There are marks in the wood of the door frame. Emma thinks they probably match the ones on her chest. Looking back at Killian, Emma can see he’s coming to the same conclusion.

 

She waves Moe back behind her, pushing the door open slowly in case the cat is still inside. The window is open, blowing a cool breeze through the room but seems otherwise empty. Once Emma has checked the apartment thoroughly, she motions for the men outside to enter.

 

“No way Trish was this messy,” Killian comments, gazing around the apartment. Emma has to agree. Messy would be a few takeout containers on the counter or a foul smell. The cushions of the couch are spread around the floor and the place looks like a tornado blew through. Emma can tell it’s been ransacked.

 

“Chesh might be one step ahead of us, but he sure isn’t great at covering his tracks,” she comments. Killian nods, prodding at the upended drawer on the kitchen counter with his hook. While they were having hot chocolate and discussing flower arrangements, that cat was following  _ her  _ lead. Emma doesn’t like being beaten to the punch.

 

“Do you think he found anything?” Emma asks. Killian shrugs from the kitchen.

 

“Only one way to find out,” he responds. He returns his attention to the mess on the counter and starts digging through it, looking for any clue Cheshire may have found for his next lead. Emma sighs and turns back to Moe.

 

“Can you tell me anything about Trish?” She asks him.

 

“Sure,” Moe shrugs. “She was a pain in the ass. Never paid her rent on time. I was constantly getting complaints about her and boyfriend. If it wasn’t the fighting, it was the fucking like rabbits. Drove her neighbors up the wall.”

 

“Sounds like a real problem tennant,” Emma edges. “Must have pissed you off.”

 

“Sure it pissed me off,” Moe admits, picking up on her insinuation immediately. “But as slow as Trish was to pay rent, she’d pay it even slower if she were dead. Killing clientele is hardly a lucrative business model, Sheriff.”

 

Emma has to admit he’s got a point. Turning away from him, she huffs and returns to the mess at hand. Either Chesh had taken off because he’d found something or he’d heard them coming. The place is in such disarray, Emma can’t decide which choice is more likely. She dismisses Moe to join Killian in the search for anything helpful.

 

-/-

 

They spend hours searching through everything in Trish’s apartment. They even make messes in rooms Cheshire hadn’t seemed to touch. They find a few dry cleaning tickets from a cleaners Emma’s never heard of, oddly enough kept neatly in a folder in a bottom desk drawer. When she looks it up on her phone she can’t find any trace of its existence. Emma calls the number but doesn’t get an answer. Nothing else seems consequential.

 

It’s dark outside, the sky an inky blue lit up by the lights of the city, when Killian drops down onto Trish’s bed. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. Emma takes his lead and gives up, leaning back against the dresser across from the bed.

 

“I’m loathe to admit it, but I don’t believe there’s anything of consequence to be found here,” Killian admits. Emma has to agree. At the very least she’s beginning to suspect Chesh had only left because he’d heard them coming. Emma’s glad he did, she doesn’t think her body would have appreciated a repeat performance of their last meeting.

 

“Shit,” Emma groans, covering her face with her hands. “I thought we’d at least find  _ something  _ to go off of here.”

 

“Perhaps we’ll try to track down that mystery dry cleaners tomorrow,” Killian suggests, shrugging in a way that seems much less defeated than Emma is feeling. He had never struck her as the optimistic type. “For now, I think it’d do us both some good to get some sustenance and some sleep.”

 

Emma hates to give him the satisfaction, but Killian is right. Her shoulders are still tight from connecting with the pavement earlier and the scrapes on her chest are getting irritated by her jacket. Killian pushes himself off the bed and waves for her to lead the way out of the apartment.

 

“Come by the office tomorrow morning and we’ll get a fresh start,” Emma says, once they’re standing outside the building. Killian nods, agreeing to first thing in the morning, before they part ways. Emma heads back towards the Nottingham while Killian heads for the waterfront.

 

Once she reaches the apartment complex, Emma goes to her office first. She gathers Trish’s and Milah’s files and decides to add notes from today to them while she eats something. As she’s leaving, Emma catches Snow locking up the business office.

 

“Emma, hey,” Snow greets, once she notices her. She turns the key in the lock quickly and continues down the hallway with Emma. “How did today go?”

 

“Could have been better,” Emma admits, covering a yawn behind the folders in her hand. Her mother frowns. “I ran into Merlin and Nimue, though. They said to tell you and dad they said hi.”

 

Snow nods at the greeting but brings focus back to the original topic.

 

“Did you find out anything at all?” She asks as she presses the call button for the elevator. Emma sighs and shakes her head in the negative.

 

“Just that Killian and I aren’t the only ones trying to find whoever killed Trish,” Emma explains. “I’m starving and exhausted, though, so I kind of just want to eat and then sleep for ten hours. I can give you the full report in the morning, though.”

 

Snow nods in understanding. She turns to Emma, brushing her hair away from her face and frowning in concern. Emma gives a tired smile at the concern but pushes her hand away gently. The elevator dings at Emma’s floor and the doors open.

 

“I’m fine, I promise,” Emma assures her, stepping into the hallway. “I just need some rest. Tell dad I said hey and I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?”

 

Snow nods as the elevator doors slide shut again. Emma catches her reflection in the shiny metal and groans. Her exhaustion reads on her face. No wonder Killian had been watching her in worry for most of the afternoon.

 

Emma heads down the hall, digging out her keys to unlock her apartment door. In the kitchen, she pulls some leftover pasta out and puts it in the microwave. While it warms up, she scribbles what few notes she has from today onto Trish’s file. She eats half of the pasta before she gives in to the exhaustion in her bones and passes out on her bed.

 

-/-

 

It feels like deja vu when Emma wakes up to her phone vibrating against her hip bone. She catches the time as she frees the device from her jeans pocket. It’s only been about three hours since she’d fallen asleep.

 

“Swan,” she mumbles, sitting up and brushing her curls out of her face. Her leftover mascara is making her eyelashes stick together. Emma has to rub the heel of her palm against her eye to get it to open fully.

 

“Emma, it’s Red,” the voice on the other end greets in a rush. Emma’s still half asleep but her mind shakes her into alertness. They’re friends outside work, but Red usually doesn’t call this late unless something is wrong. After the last call, Emma is immediately on edge at the realization. After a long pause, Red continues, “I found another one. You better get down here.”

 

Emma doesn’t waste any more time, she gets the location and heads out into the hallway. She zips her jacket up to her neck in the elevator, irritating the scratches on her chest all over again. Ignoring the sensation, Emma calls Killian and relays the location Red had given her.

 

“I’ll meet you there,” he says, sounding much more alert than he had at the beginning of the call. Emma figures it’s probably not a great idea to call Killian to the scene of a murder but, it’s too late to change her mind. If she’s honest with herself, after last time, Emma just doesn’t want to do it alone this time.

 

When she reaches the place Red had given her, Mulan has her arms wrapped around her shaking girlfriend. Emma’s chest tightens at the sight of the distraught women. She jogs the last few feet until she reaches them. Mulan nudges Red when she notices Emma’s arrival.

 

“We were heading home from Glowerhaven when she smelled it,” Mulan explains. Red has tear tracks on her face, her mascara creating lines on the apples of her cheeks. “The scent brought her here.”

 

Emma nods and turns to enter the alley. She hears steps approaching and glances back to see Killian jogging towards her. Red catches her arm, pulling Emma back.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Red says softly. Emma frowns in confusion as Killian powers past her into the alley.

 

“Bloody hell,” she hears him breathe behind her. “I’d forgotten.”

 

Emma turns to find him bracing himself against the brick wall. It suddenly strikes her that he had been the one to find Milah. She definitely shouldn’t have called him. Pulling her arm out of Red’s grip, Emma proceeds into the alley. Cautious this time, her bravery dulled slightly by Red’s concern.

 

The same metallic smell hits her nose and Emma sees the heart first. Crushed and creating a bloodstain on the pavement, it’s discarded near the woman’s feet. One sensible pump still on one foot while the other dangles from her toes. The blood pool is smaller this time, still flowing outwards on the pavement. It darkens the tan pantsuit as Emma’s gaze continues up the body. It isn’t until she reaches the face, the dark hair splayed around her, that Emma’s chest constricts and breathing becomes difficult.

 

“Son of a bitch,” she breathes. “It’s Marian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are my lifeblood. keep an eye next thursday for the next chapter! <3


	4. take things slow as we may bruise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, guys! Hope your week's been well!

Emma leaves the group at the scene with instructions to wait for Walsh to move the body. A part of her feels bad for making them stay with the body, but Emma has something else to do. She’s done wasting time. Killian tries to follow but Emma stops him, knowing that things will go better if she does it alone. She reaches Nottingham and rouses Walsh from his sleep in the business office, sending him off to where the others are.

It’s the middle of night, but when Emma reaches the door to the penthouse, she bangs her palm against it as loudly as she can. When Regina doesn’t immediately answer, Emma continues the pounding in quick succession. She hears a few curses come from inside, but doesn’t halt her knocking until the door opens.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Regina bites. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Emma doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. She pushes past Regina into the apartment. The door closes loudly behind her as Regina huffs at the intrusion. Emma makes it all the way to the sitting room before turning back to Regina.

“Weren’t you raised as a princess? Do you have any sense of decency?” Regina growls but Emma ignores her.

“We found another body,” she cuts in, shortly. Regina startles at the abrupt statement. “Marian Locksley. That’s two victims now with a negative connection to you.”

“You can’t honestly think I had anything to do with these murders,” Regina responds, giving a haughty laugh like the thought is ridiculous. Emma holds her ground and Regina’s amusement turns to anger. “How dare you come into my home at some ungodly hour to accuse me! I should have your job for this.”

“We’ve been down this road, Regina, you couldn’t have my job if you tried,” Emma scoffs. “The whole town knows about your bad blood with Marian, you can’t be surprised you’re my top suspect.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “The town can gossip all it wants but fine, of course, I disliked her. She ruined everything for me! That doesn’t mean I killed her.”

“I don’t think you can really play the victim in what happened between you and Marian,” Emma comments. “Consider this house call a courtesy, I may not have anything implementing you yet, but believe me, Madam Mayor, if you killed these woman - I’ll throw you down the Wishing Well myself.”

Regina glares at Emma as she passes by her out of the apartment.

When she reaches the lobby of the apartment, Killian and Walsh are coming through with Marian’s body. They’ve wrapped it in a white sheet and Emma trails ahead of them down the hall, pulling the door to the business office open for them. Walsh leads them back into the same catacomb where Trish’s body lies and they settles Marian onto another slab.

“How much longer will we keep Trish here before committing her to the Wishing Well?” Walsh asks. His glamour ripples down his body in a purple light and his monkey form returns. Emma sighs, shrugging.

The Wishing Well is a structure in the very back of the business office. It’s had appeared when the head witch, Zelena, had added the enchantments to the room to make it bigger on the inside. Most residents believed it to lead to the final resting place and, after proper funeral arrangements, would lower their dead down into it. Too deep to see the bottom, no one knows if actually leads anywhere, but it’s one hell of a drop.

“I don’t think we’re going to get any more information from her body,” Emma admits. “I’ll give Cinderella a call tomorrow, ask if she wants to hold a funeral service.”

Walsh nods, flapping his wings and flying out of the catacomb. Once the sound of his wings has faded, Emma’s shoulders fall. She curls into herself slightly, her hands coming up to her face. She feels Killian’s hand land on the middle of her back, steadying her.

“What did the mayor say?” He asks.

“Nothing, of course,” Emma replies. She drops her hands away from her face and lets out a heavy breath. “I have so many questions. Why was Marian even in Storybrooke? She lives in Manhattan. And - oh, gods, someone is gonna have to try to find her son.”

Killian nods, his hand moving in a soothing motion across the leather of her jacket before falling away.

“Well, where do we start then, love?” He asks quietly and Emma turns to him. She doubts he’d gotten much more sleep than her before she’d called him. The dark shadows under his eyes tell that story well enough. Emma frowns.

“I have one lead I can start with,” Emma explains. “But you don’t have to go with me. Maybe you should go home, finish getting that rest you were talking about.”

“Without you?” Killian says, smiling a little at the attempt. “Not likely, I’m afraid.”

Emma raises an eyebrow at the phrasing. Killian’s smile turns to a smirk when he realizes where her mind’s gone. He chuckles and leans towards her.

“I meant unless you were going home to get some rest as well,” he amends with an over the top wink. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Swan.”

Emma shakes her head at him and heads out of the catacombs. Killian follows behind her. When they reach the main area of the business office, Walsh is nowhere to be found. Emma figures at least someone should get some sleep tonight. Passing by her mother’s desk, Emma considers whether she should tell her parents about this new development. Then, she remembers the bags under Snow’s eyes and the way she’d responded to the death of a stranger. Better to save it for the morning, she decides.

Emma hadn’t known Marian all that well, but well enough that seeing her lying in that alley had knocked the wind out of her. The woman had always been a little standoffish, not that Emma could blame her. Many years ago, Marian had been married to Robin Hood. Long story short, Robin had taken a liking to their dear mayor. Marian had found out and dropped Robin like a hot potato. It had been the town’s favorite story for a long time afterwards.

Marian hadn’t let it shut her down, though. She’d moved out of town, closer to the law firm she worked for. She specialized in, ironically, divorces and custody cases. Emma had always respected her for putting herself and her son first.

“So, what’s this lead of yours?” Killian asks from behind her. Emma tugs the business office door open and waves him through. “And why can’t it wait until morning?”

“At this particular time of night, I have a pretty good idea where we can find Marian’s ex-husband,” Emma explains, leading him out into the courtyard. If Marian was in town, Emma can hope she left Roland with a friend or a sitter. Snow could go check for the boy at Marian’s apartment tomorrow while Emma asked around town.

In the meantime, they’d start with Robin.

-/-

When they near Glowerhaven, Killian hesitates. Emma is so set on her mission, she’s across the street from him before she realizes he’s stopped. The bar is mostly quiet, the sound of the jukebox playing within is muffled but loud enough to reach the quiet street. Killian shuffles his feet on the opposite sidewalk as Emma puts her hands up in confusion.

“What are you doing?” She calls.

“Perhaps you should do this one yourself,” he responds. Emma huffs, crossing back across the street to reach him. Killian offers her an apologetic grimace before ducking his head. He scratches behind his ear and Emma raises an eyebrow at the nervous gesture.

“What’s wrong, Killian?” She asks. Her hand settles gently on his left arm, just above his brace. Killian’s eyes shift to the touch for a moment before he responds.

“The proprietor of this particular establishment and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye,” Killian admits. Emma studies his face for a moment, eyes searching. Killian squirms under her gaze and avoids her eyes.

“What’d you do to her?” She asks softly. Her fingers tighten fractionally around his forearm in reassurance.

“It was a long time ago,” he offers as an explanation. “But I can’t say I blame her for still holding a grudge. Things will go much more smoothly if I wait out here, trust me.”

Emma nods, her hand falling from his arm. Killian swallows, but Emma doesn’t make a move to go just yet. Instead, she glances towards the bar and points out the alley next to it.

“Just wait there, next to the building, alright?” Emma suggests. “If Robin is in there, I’ll bring him out here to talk.”

Killian nods and follows her as she crosses the street this time. Emma breaks away and heads towards the door to the bar while Killian lingers beside the building. The smell of smoke and lives in crises hit her as soon as she pulls the door open. A sad song croons through the speakers of the jukebox. There’s no merrymaking in this place, just drinking to forget.

Emma can relate on some levels.

Ursula is behind the bar, twisting a towel around the inside of a glass. Emma almost expects her to toss the towel over her shoulder and say something like “what’s your poison, friend?” Instead, Ursula’s eyes raise to meet Emma’s and the look turns to one of disgust.

“Twice in as many days, Sheriff,” the woman comments, setting the glass down behind the bar. “To what do I owe this esteemed honor? You actually planning on drinking tonight?”

One of the men at the bar startles at Ursula’s comments. He turns to face Emma with wide eyes. Emma smirks at him.

“Relax, Will,” she sighs, continuing on her path towards the bar. “I’m not here for you. This time.”

“What are you here for?” Ursula asks, a sneer pulling at her lips. Emma scans the other two men at the bar, recognizing the back of Robin’s head. He sits at the end of the bar, curled up into himself. He doesn’t appear to have taken any interest in the conversation going on around him.

“Sheriff business,” Emma bites, crossing to stand behind Robin. She taps him on the shoulder and he jolts in surprise at the contact. Spinning around to face her, Robin looks like a cornered animal. His eyes are blown wide and the smell of scotch clings to him.

“I haven’t done anything,” he says immediately and Emma shakes her head.

“I just need to speak with you,” she explains, motioning for him to stand up and follow her. She shoots a look at the other people in the bar. They’ve all got their eyes trained on the scene before them. “In private.”

Robin’s response is slow but he nods and slides off the barstool. Emma leads him out of the bar where Killian is leaning against the brick of the building. Robin frowns distrustfully at him when Emma stalls next to him.

“Don’t imagine you brought me some rum, did you?” Killian asks with a smirk. Emma rolls her eyes at him and turns to face Robin. He looks between the two of them in confusion.

“What’s this about, Sheriff?” He asks when neither of them offer up the information. “And what’s the pirate got to do with it?”

“Hook is helping me out,” Emma explains, a little bite to her voice at the slight in Killian’s direction. She cringes and makes her next words much gentler. “Don’t worry about him. This is about Marian, I’m afraid.”

The frown on Robin’s face only deepens as he shakes his head. Maybe Emma should have stopped to grab a cup of coffee for him. He seems in even worse shape than she’d expected. She takes a deep breath and steels herself for the next part.

“We found her body tonight,” Emma explains slowly. “She’s dead.”

Maybe it’s the scotch or maybe Robin really is that distraught. His knees buckle underneath him and he throws a hand out, catching himself against the brick building before he can hit the ground. Killian reaches for him to help steady him further.

“Dead? No, she can’t,” Robin gasps. “How is that possible? She doesn’t even live in Storybrooke. Where did you find her?”

“Robin, I know this is difficult but I need to ask you some questions first, okay?” Emma tries. Robin doesn’t even seem to hear her. Killian has him on his feet again and Robin’s hands are tugging at his hair.

“What about Roland? Where’s my son?” He asks, frenzied. At Emma’s silence his fear turns to rage. “You don’t know where he is?! You should be looking for my son, not standing here with me!”

He pushes Killian’s arms away from him and moves to storm away from them. Killian catches him easily by the back of his coat, holding him back. Robin spins back around at the resistance from his coat. He takes a wild, sloppy swing at Killian. Killian dodges it easily, pressing Robin up against the bricks with a little more force than necessary.

Emma places her hand on the arm pinning Robin to the wall. Killian’s eyes meet hers, his jaw is ticking in agitation but she sees the pressure from his arm lighten up. Robin is still trapped against the wall but he seems to be calming down.

“We’re working on looking for Roland, I promise,” Emma assures him. Robin heaves a breath and sags under Killian’s arm. “Right now I need to know if you have any idea why Marian may have been in Storybrooke or who she might have been meeting.”

Robin shakes his head despondently. There are tears building in his eyes and Emma notices as his breathing begins to pick up. He’s drunk and panicked. They’ll be lucky to get anything coherent out of him.

“Go home and sober up,” Emma commands. Killian removes his arm from across Robin’s chest. “We’ll call you if we find out anything.”

Robin doesn’t acknowledge her. He slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the cement. He makes a pathetic picture as he buries his face in his hands and Emma feels bad for him. She grabs Killian’s arm again and pulls him away.

“So, what now?” He asks once they’re far enough away from the bar. Emma thinks about it for a moment.

“Robin was right about one thing, right now we need to prioritize finding Roland,” she says. “I’m gonna call some of the people in town I know she kept in contact with. Maybe if Marian came into Storybrooke to meet someone she left Roland with a friend in town.”

“Alright,” Killian nods. “How can I help?”

Emma gives him a soft smile. He’s been a trooper through all of this, even managing concern for her after her run in with Cheshire. But Emma knows that this is about Milah for him, so running around and chasing leads that have nothing to do with her isn’t why he asked to tag along. Emma is more than capable of managing her job without him, she’s sure. She’s been doing it for years.

“Go home, Killian,” she says gently. Killian frowns at her. “You should go home and get some sleep. I know this isn’t really what you signed up for.”

“I’m here to help you find this monster,” he insists. “Whether that leads to Milah or not, I want to help.”

Emma considers him for a moment, the sincerity in his words striking her. Eventually, she nods.

“Okay, fine. But, really, all I’m gonna do is start a phone tree at the office and forward the phones to my cell. Then, I’m gonna get some sleep,” she tells him. She reaches out, squeezing his arm gently again. “It would help me to know you’re doing the same.”

“If it’ll help you sleep better, Sheriff,” he agrees, offering her a grin. His hand comes up to brush her hair away from her face. He frowns and Emma can tell he’s studying the exhaustion on her face. She really does need sleep. “We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Will you call me if you hear anything on the boy?”

Emma nods in agreement. For a long moment, Killian doesn’t move. His hand still lingers near her face. He pulls it back eventually, stepping away from her with a shake of his head. He bids her goodnight before heading in the direction of the bay. Emma rolls her neck and groans before heading back towards the Nottingham.

-/-

Emma starts by calling Red. She feels bad for waking her up again after the day Red’s had, but if anyone would be able to get the word out about Roland, it’d be her. Red promises to get the message passed on for anyone who knows where he is to call the sheriff’s office. Emma sets the phone up to forward any calls to her cell phone and heads upstairs to her apartment.

By the time she reaches her bed, her body is dragging her down. Emma remembers to remove her phone from her pocket this time, setting it on the pillow next to where she sleeps. She passes out face first when she hits the pillows.

It isn’t until sunrise that Emma’s phone rings next to her head. She startles awake to answer it, hoping for good news. The bookstore owner, Belle, greets her timidly on the other line. Apparently, Marian had left Roland in Belle’s custody for the night and Belle had only just gotten a call asking about him. Emma thinks they need to come up with something more efficient than a phone tree.

Belle agrees to bring the boy to the business office when he wakes up. Emma calls Killian to inform him of the update before deciding she’s gotten enough sleep for the night. Trish and Milah’s files are still laid out across the kitchen counter. Emma’s stomach sinks as she realizes she’ll need to create one for Marian.

She digs a pop tart out of the cupboard and puts the files back together before heading down to her office. Before Belle shows up, Emma will have to break the news to her parents. She wants to have a file started before Snow comes down to open the business office for the day. Emma will also probably have to deal with Regina at some point, unless her luck does a complete one-eighty. She doubts that’ll happen.

Something in her is swirling with panic. Maybe it’s her magic or just her intuition, but something is telling her there’s harsh waters ahead. Her mind is telling her to batten down and prepare for the hurricane. Everything up until now has just been a thunderstorm.

Emma starts a file for Marian, scribbling her name on the filing tab. It’s mostly a carbon copy of Trish’s file, Emma describes the wound and the scene when they’d found her. She’s halfway finished when Killian comes in. He’s holding a carrying tray with two cups of coffee from Granny’s. Emma reaches for one gratefully when he sets it on her desk and takes the seat across from her.

“You’re looking much better this morning, Swan,” he comments and Emma rolls her eyes playfully at him. Killian smirks, continuing, “Much more rested, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs. “My body’s rested. My mind can’t catch a break though.”

Killian frowns, but nods in understanding. Emma imagines he’s not fairing much better than her. It’s been a rough couple days for everyone. Sighing, Emma finishes her description of the scene for Marian’s file before slapping it closed.

“What time is Marian’s friend bringing the boy by?” Killian asks when he realizes she’s finished with the work.

“Belle said she’d call me before she brought him down here,” Emma tells him. “I want to talk to my parents first, though, so they aren’t blindsided. Did the business office look open when you passed?”

“Hard to say,” Killian shrugs. “There was a line outside but I can’t say if it was moving or not.”

Emma sighs. One way to find out. She picks up her cell phone and calls up to her parent’s apartment. David answers and Emma asks him and Snow to meet her at the business office, if Snow isn’t already there. David tells her Snow headed down a few minutes ago and agrees to come down immediately.

Emma relays the information to Killian before leading him out of her office and down the hall to her mother’s. Snow and Red are already inside when they enter. Emma is surprised to see Red in so early after the night she had. The two woman are bent over Snow’s desk, heads close as they talk in quiet tones. Emma frowns and clears her throat.

“Emma,” Snow says in surprise. Her face turns to concern. “What’s wrong?”

Emma shoots a look towards Red. The woman is sliding papers into a file folder and avoiding Emma’s gaze. She can assume Red hadn’t mentioned finding Marian to her mother yet, thankfully.

“What are you looking at?” Emma asks, frowning at the secrecy. Snow lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head.

“Nothing, just town stuff,” she waves it off, crossing the room to meet Emma and Killian. She takes one of Emma’s hands in her own. “You look much better than when I saw you yesterday. I’m glad you got some sleep. It was a tough day yesterday.”

“It’s about to get tougher,” Emma mumbles. It earns a confused look from her mother. “I asked dad to meet us. I’ll explain once he gets here.”

Snow nods, her brow still furrowed in concern. Killian shifts uncomfortably at Emma’s side and the room goes a little too quiet. Red leans back against Snow’s desk, folder held tightly to her chest. They aren’t waiting long before David enters the office, though, and Emma sighs in relief.

“Okay, what is going on, Emma?” David asks, passing by her. He stops to drop a kiss to the side of her head before joining Snow. Emma suggests they sit. Snow takes a seat in her desk chair while David leans next to Red against the desk. David shoots Killian a wary look when he shifts a little closer to Emma.

“We found another body last night,” Emma says finally. The words come out in a rush of air but it doesn’t take long for her parents to react.

“What?” David nearly shouts, pushing himself off the desk to stand up straight. Snow gasps and covers her mouth.

“Who?” She asks quietly. The word travels through the space between her fingers. Emma wrings her hands in front of her.

“Marian,” she answers. Snow lets out an oh gods and covers her face further. David seems to mull it over for a moment.

“Did you talk to Regina?” He asks and Emma nods. It’s heartening to know that Emma isn’t the only one who finds it hard to believe the mayor has completely left her old ways in the past. Emma’s never felt any sort of genial vibe from Regina.

“Yeah, I think I scared her a bit,” Emma admits. “But otherwise I don’t really have anything tying her to this but my gut. She had a history with Trish as well, but going after her for it would go against the Amnesty Charter.”

David frowns and rubs his hand over his jaw. Snow pushes herself out of her chair and rounds the desk. She places her hand on David’s arm softly and it seems to make his shoulders relax a bit. The sight is familiar to Emma, neither of them ever go into battle alone.

“What about Marian’s son?” Snow asks softly. “Do we know where Roland is?”

“Belle is bringing the boy to Emma’s office in a bit,” Killian says, before Emma has a chance to answer. Snow looks at him in surprise, Emma thinks it’s the first time he’s added to the conversation while anyone else is around. David frowns but Emma smirks to herself.

“Okay, well, this won’t be easy for him to understand,” Snow nods. “We’ll have to find someone to watch him. Have you spoken to Robin?”

Emma nods. She’d called Robin after calling Killian that morning to let him know they’d found Roland. He’d tried to insist on coming down to meet him but Emma had begged him to let her handle it. She’d promised to call him again later.

“I don’t know if I can, in good conscience, hand Roland over to him,” Emma admits. She glances at Killian for backup. “We saw him last night. He’s a drunk and a mess. He’s been that way since Marian left.”

“He’s his father,” Snow sighs. “We might be able to keep Roland under our care for the sake of the investigation but, eventually, we might not have a choice.”

Emma groans, ready to argue the point. If Marian had a will or some sort of legal instructions, maybe Roland could be under someone else’s custody. Even if it’s only until Robin can prove he can clean himself. Marian was a lawyer, she’s sure there’s some sort of documentation. She’s about to make the point when her phone rings.

She answers it and Belle lets her know that they’re heading to the Nottingham complex. Emma hangs up and everyone agrees to table the discussion for now. Snow and Red return to work and David follows Emma and Killian out of the office.

“Do you work today?” Emma asks him as they reach the lobby. David nods. He works at a Mundy animal shelter outside of Storybrooke.

“Yeah, but call me if you need anything,” he insists. Emma nods in agreement before he heads out of the spinning door of the Nottingham. Moments later, Roland and Belle come through it. Emma spots them, asking them to join her in her office. Roland asks Killian a million questions a minute about his hook and his rings while Killian chuckles in amusement. He answers as many as he can with exaggerated but kid friendly answers.

“What’s this about, Sheriff?” Belle asks, glancing back at Killian and Roland where they trail behind. Emma leads her into the office before responding.

“We just want to ask a few questions about Roland’s mom,” Emma says. She’s hesitant to drop the word dead in front of Roland right off the bat. Maybe she can get the information she needs before ruining the poor kid’s day, at least. “Why did she ask you to watch Roland?”

“She had a late meeting and knew it would be well into the evening before she got home,” Belle explains with a frown. “Why?”

“Was she meeting someone in Storybrooke?” Emma asks, brushing past the question. “Is that why she was here?”

“No,” Belle says slowly. “As far as I know she wasn’t. Her meeting was at work for some case. I picked Roland up from her apartment in Manhattan and brought him here.”

Emma frowns at that. If that’s the case, Marian shouldn’t have even been in Storybrooke. Had someone lured her into town with something important enough to make her skip a meeting? Or had she lied to Belle? Either way, Emma doubted Belle was going to have the answers she needed.

“Killian,” Emma says gently, getting his attention. “Maybe you should take Roland into the hall for a bit. I’m sure he’d like to hear about your ship, right, Roland?”

The attention seems to make Roland shy but he nods enthusiastically, regardless. Killian seems to understand and leads Roland into the hall. Emma figures she can tell Belle first. Maybe hearing it from someone he actually knows will make it easier on Roland.

“What’s all this about?” Belle asks once the door has closed. Her voice is pleading. Emma wishes this wasn’t a part of her job.

“We found Marian’s body late last night,” Emma explains. Belle frowns in confusion.

“Her body?” She asks. “I don’t understand.”

“Someone killed her, Belle,” Emma sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

Belle goes silent. Her face tightens, the lines in her forehead deepening as she stares at Emma. Emma knows Belle’s story, knows that the woman is exceptionally clever and quick-witted. She supposes shock can do a lot to a person. Emma waits patiently for Belle to understand.

“No, she can’t be,” Belle says finally. Robin had said something similar last night after he collapsed. Belle says it differently though. There’s no grief in her voice, just conviction. Emma mirrors the woman’s confusion now.

“I know this is hard,” she starts. “But I was there when they found her, Belle. She is.”

There’s a small commotion outside. Emma can hear someone conversing with Killian in a loud enough tone to reach through her office door. There’s a shout from Roland, Emma would swear it sounds like mommy. She pushes up from her seat, Belle turning towards the door as well. Emma pushes the door open and steps out into the hall.

The new arrival turns at the door opening, Roland in her arms and Emma stumbles back a step.

“Sheriff, do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Marian demands.

-/-

What Emma learns is this; Belle picked up Roland from Marian’s Manhattan apartment at about 6 o’clock the night before. Marian spent most of her night working on case materials at her law firm. She never even crossed into Brooklyn, let alone Storybrooke. This morning, when Emma had asked Belle to bring Roland down to the sheriff’s office, she’d called Marian. It had taken Marian longer than she’d intended initially to get to the Nottingham, but, and this is the part that is most important to Emma, she is very much alive.

“No chance of this quest getting any easier, I suppose,” Killian comments. Emma sent Marian, Belle, and Roland home after a few questions. She’d then broken out the bottle of rum she keeps in the bottom door. Screw the fact that it’s not even noon, she deserves it.

“I think that hope was shot a long time ago,” Emma comments, tipping back her glass of rum. Killian follows her example. “We need to figure out whose body is in the catacombs if it isn’t Marian’s.”

“Do you think it might be a glamour enchantment?” Killian asks. He pushes his empty glass across the desk towards Emma. She puts it away in the drawer, along with her own glass and the bottle. Glamour enchantments take an incredible amount of energy to create. It’s why they’ve been government mandated and only sorcerers employed by the mayor could create them legally.

“One way to find out,” Emma shrugs, standing from her seat. She heads down the hall to the business office, Killian at her heels. Moe French is barking at Snow from across her desk but Emma ignores them. When they reach the catacombs, Emma stands over the body that looks like Marian.

She raises her hands, holding them over the body, and closes her eyes. Breathing slowly she tries to feel the magical energy coming from the corpse. Once she’s looking for it, it’s incredibly strong. Emma is surprised she didn’t feel it before, but she hadn’t gotten too close until now.

Pulling her hands back, Emma hears footsteps coming towards the room.

“Emma, what’s going on?” Snow asks as she enters. She falters at the sight of Marian’s body but continues at a slower pace. “Did you talk to Roland?”

“We talked to Marian, actually,” Emma offers. Snow’s eyebrows go up in befuddlement. “Turns out she’s perfectly fine. Spent the night in Manhattan and nowhere near Storybrooke.”

“How is that possible?” Snow questions.

“There’s a glamour on this body,” Emma explains, motioning towards the unidentified woman laying on the stone. “I can feel it.”

“Can you remove it?” Snow frowns. Emma shrugs and turns back to the body. She lifts her hands again, closes her eyes. Removing a glamour by force is difficult, it requires a lot of energy. Emma takes a few slow breaths before slowly moving her hands from the woman’s feet upwards. Her palms prickle with the output of energy and Emma’s chest tightens. She has to force air into her lungs but keeps her mind concentrated on dissolving the enchantment.

Snow gives a sharp gasp. Emma feels Killian stiffen behind her. His hand reaches out, landing softly on Emma’s back. It spurs Emma to open her eyes. The charm has faded away. Gone is Marian’s pantsuit and sharp features. Emma’s throat closes up when her eyes fall on the woman’s face. Nimue’s eyes are closed and her skin is gray from the loss of blood.

“Emma,” Killian breathes, stepping close to her. Emma steps out of his reach. Her chest tightens, her throat closes. Suddenly trying to pull air into her lungs is a herculean effort. Her eyes prick with the buildup of oncoming tears and Emma forces an impassive expression, refuses to allow the tears to fall.

“Honey,” Snow tries, taking a step towards her as well. Emma ignores them both. She brushes past them, brushes Killian’s hand off when it lands on her arm, and leaves the catacombs. Moe French is no longer in the visitor’s seat at Snow’s desk. Emma ignores the eyes of the people in line as she speeds past them, escaping into the elevator.

Safe in her apartment, away from prying eyes, Emma drops to her knees and cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go ahead and apologize now. See you next Thursday, I hope! <33


	5. high has hit a new low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma and her walls, man.

Emma cries until she’s gasping for breath, sobs shaking her ribs. She wraps her arms around herself and begs the universe for a miracle. For a god damned break from her heartache. Emma Swan is tired of losing people she cares about. Her body betrays her, her legs shaking until she falls further to the floor. It’s unfair for her to fall apart like this, she figures. After the friends and loved ones she’s broken this same knews to over the past few days. Emma doesn’t deserve the luxury of falling apart, but she can’t stop the pain from trying to swallow her.

 

When it had been Marian, it had been a shock. Not that Emma was _okay_ with Marian being dead, but she didn’t know Marian. Emma knew Nimue. She had taught Emma to use and control her powers, she had helped her when Emma made the decision to come to this new world on her own. Nimue had been like family. Emma doesn’t know if she can lose anymore family.

 

It takes a while for her eyes to dry up, the exhaustion to hit her like a freight train. When that happens, Emma is just a lonely girl on the floor of her apartment, arms wrapped tightly around herself. That’s another thing Emma is fucking sick of; Feeling like a lonely little girl.

 

She resolves it’s time to do something about it.

 

Somehow, she pushes herself to her feet. Emma stumbles to the bathroom and splashes her face with water. There’s mascara and eyeliner covering her cheeks and, when emma checks, the back of her hands. She scrubs her hands in the sink and washes the makeup from her face. Taking a few deep breathes, Emma looks into the mirror and collects herself. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail and leaves the apartment.

 

Killian and Snow are waiting for her in the hallway. Emma is surprised that Snow didn’t call in the entire “Emma’s emotional crisis solving” brigade in on this.

 

“Emma,” Snow starts slowly. Killian looks unsure of his part in this but he also isn’t running away. Emma doesn’t quite know what to make of that. “We should talk about this.”

 

“Talking won’t bring Nimue back,” Emma bites. Snow sighs, reaching for Emma gently. Emma skirts away from her embrace. She heads down the hall towards the elevator.

 

“You can’t do this again, Emma,” Snow pleads. “You can’t just bottle it all up in the hopes that it’ll go away. You can’t run away from it again. From us.”

 

Emma takes a slow breath. Snow is right, but Emma has no intention of running away. She’s going to find the bastard who did this and she’s going to make him pay. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Emma steps inside, turning around to face her mother and Killian still in the hallway.

 

“I appreciate the concern,” she says. “But you can’t fix this.”

 

Snow’s face falls and Emma thinks her mother knows she’s right. No amount of cocoa or hugs or encouraging words are going to change the fact that Emma’s friend is dead. Killian steps forward, intent on entering the elevator as well. He holds the door open with his arm pressed against it.

 

“Where to then, Swan?” He asks. In the back of her mind, Emma appreciates that he isn’t pushing this issue. Still, she puts her hand out to stop him from joining her. With her emotions frazzled, a small push of magic emits from her palm. Just strong enough to hold him in place.

 

“I’m going to go talk to Merlin,” Emma explains, frowning at her hand instead of meeting Killian’s eyes. She can feel his gaze on her face. “Just me. I think I should just work this alone for a while. I’ll call you when I have something.”

 

Killian takes a step back and Emma’s hand falls. She finally looks up at his face. His shoulders are stiff and his jaw is tight. Emma knows he knows what she’s doing. It’s easier for everyone this way. He should thank her, frankly, before he becomes just another name on a folder, another body in the catacombs.

 

“Sure you will,” Killian responds gruffly. It’s sarcastic and Emma knows he’s right. She wouldn’t trust herself in this state, either. But she knows what she’s doing. Everyone is going to have to respect that.

 

The elevator doors slide closed. Emma braces herself against one of the walls as the car descends downwards. On the ground floor, Emma goes back to her office first. She scratches Marian’s name on the file on her desk out with a pen and scribbles in Nimue’s. As she heads back to the lobby, Emma realizes there’s no one waiting outside the business office door. She wonders if Snow closed for the day.

 

Emma pushes out of the lobby door and zips her coat up to her throat. She tucks her head down, away from the afternoon sunlight, as she heads for Merlin’s apartment.

 

-/-

 

Emma figures she must have done something really awful in a past life. She can’t think of anything she’s done in this one to deserve this special hell of telling people their loved ones have been murdered. Merlin answers the door with a smile, though his brow is tight. Emma thinks maybe he can feel it, too. That feeling that a storm is coming. She’d been feeling it for days, deep in her, and now she understands.

 

Merlin waves her inside, apologizing for his state. It’s only then Emma realizes he does look a little ragged. Emma wonders vaguely when the last time he slept was, and then she realizes. For him, his wife has been missing since sometime last night.

 

She wants to throw up.

 

He tries to get her to take a seat on the couch, insists on making tea. Emma stops him with a hand on his arm, keeping him in place. He meets her eyes, wide and terrified like a wild animal. Emma realizes he already knows, in some way he knows. Emma swallows and averts her gaze.

 

“Merlin,” she starts gently. Merlin’s other hand covers hers where it rest on his arm. He squeezes her fingers almost painfully.

 

“Don’t,” he begs. Emma’s eyes prickle with the build up of tears. She chews on her bottom lip.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Merlin falls into her for a moment, a sob tearing through his throat. He drops onto the couch, Emma unable to steady him. He leans his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands as his shoulders shake. Emma drops to her knees in front of him. Desperate to help, knowing she can’t.

 

For a few minutes, Emma lets him grieve. It’s more courtesy than she gave Robin or Cinderella but she can’t bring herself to stop him. She doesn’t think there are any answers he can give her anyway.

 

“When?” Merlin asks when his breathing slows. He scrubs his hand across his eyes. Emma lifts herself up from her knees to sit on the coffee table in front of him.

 

“Late last night,” Emma tells him, shaking her head. “Someone had applied a glamour to her. It hid her identity until I removed it about an hour ago.”

 

Merlin nods. Emma doubts the information has helped or made him feel better. She can see the gears in his head turning though. There’s something sparking in his eyes. Emma recognizes it easily, feels it in herself. Anger. Whoever killed these women doesn’t realize just how powerful of an enemy they’ve made.

 

Before Merlin can share whatever is brewing in his mind, the front door of the apartment building closes loudly. It’s followed by the loud footfalls of Moe French. It suddenly strikes Emma that this is the second woman killed in his building now. Even if Moe French didn’t kill Trish and Nimue, he may be feeding information to the person who did.

 

She’s up like a shot, heading out of Merlin’s apartment. Emma hears him call her name behind her, but ignores it. She bangs loudly on the closed apartment door at the end of the hall. Moe curses from within, tugging the door open with a scowl.

 

“Sheriff,” he grimaces. “What can I do for you now?”

 

Emma shoves him backwards into the apartment, roughly, letting her anger get the better of her. Moe gives a shout of surprise and glares at her. Before he can say anything, Emma presses him back against the wall. The man is easily twice her size but Emma’s strength shouldn’t be underestimated. He struggles against the press of her arm across his shoulders.

 

“What the fuck?” He barks. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

 

“I’m having a hard time believing that, Moe,” Emma growls. “I know everything has a price for you. What about the privacy and safety of your tenants, huh? How much would you sell their souls for?”

 

Merlin appears behind Emma, hand resting on her shoulder. He tugs gently, trying to extract her from Moe. The landlord stares in wide eyed shock at Emma. Merlin gives a firmer tug and Emma stumbles back a step, freeing Moe.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asks, rubbing his palm against where her elbow had pressed into his shoulder.

 

“Nimue is dead,” Emma bites. “That’s the second woman from _your_ building to wind up that way. I find it hard to believe that’s a coincidence!”

 

Moe fumbles, looking wildly between Emma and Merlin. Emma’s breathing has gone shallow and her palms are prickling. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she needs to calm down. Merlin puts a gentle hand on her arm, giving her a meaningful look. Emma takes a deep breath.

 

“Nimue’s-? Jesus,” Moe breathes, reaching up and pulling the cap from his head. He twists it anxiously in his hands. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry, Merlin.”

 

Merlin nods at the condolences. Emma’s breathing slows. Moe seems genuinely surprised Nimue is dead. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been selling information, but Emma needs to handle this more rationally. Even she has to admit her responce was an overreaction.

 

“I believe what the Sheriff was trying to ask,” Merlin begins, shooting a concerned look at Emma. Emma shakes her hands out, trying to quell her magic bubbling beneath the surface. It’s aching to be let out. “Is if anyone came around asking about Nimue or Trish.”

 

Moe’s eyes go wide. He shakes his head before thinking better of it. His brow furrows and he tilts his head to the side.

 

“Well, no one except Zelena,” he says.

 

“Zelena?” Emma asks, nearly giving herself whiplash as she looks up from examining her palms. “What was Zelena doing here?”

 

“Said she was looking for witches in the building,” Moe shrugs. “I figured she was looking to hire, you know, more people to make glamours. I told her about Trish and Nimue.”

 

Emma meets Merlin’s eye. Merlin thanks Moe and apologizes for the intrusion. Emma would do it but her mind is buzzing too quickly. Merlin leads her out of Moe’s apartment, back down the hallway to his own.

 

“Emma, glamour charms take a lot of power,” Merlin says once they’re alone. “No average sorcerer can do it. It’s why Regina and Zelena can charge an arm and a leg for them.”

 

“But _why_ would Zelena want to kill Trish and Nimue?” Emma asks, pressing a hand to to her forehead. “Competition? I mean, she got her job through nepotism. It’s not like she has to worry about losing it.”

 

“I don’t know,” Merlin admits, shaking his head. “If Nimue were offered a position at Nottingham, she’d have mentioned it to me.”

 

Emma turns away from him and starts pacing back and forth. Zelena can barely carry out a concealment charm without someone holding her hand. She’s not a leader. If she’s killing these women, it’s under someone else’s instruction. Regina is the obvious choice, but even Emma has to admit that makes glamouring the body to look like Marian incredibly stupid. Unless, Zelena had killed the wrong woman. Emma doesn’t even want to consider that Nimue’s death had been an accident.

 

“Sorry again, Merlin,” Emma sighs, halting her pacing to face him. He seems surprised at the abrupt change. “I’ll call you if I find anything out.”

 

With that, Emma pulls the apartment door open and leaves.

 

-/-

 

She tries walking around a bit, even ends up by the waterfront. It doesn’t help. Emma knows what she needs is to slow her mind down. Everything has been hitting so quickly, she needs it to stop for a while.

 

She ends up at Glowerhaven.

 

Ursula gives her a suspicious glare when she steps inside. Emma ignores it, walking up to the bar and taking a seat. Ursula doesn’t come over to her immediately. Emma imagines she’s waiting to see what Emma’s end is this time. Eventually, curiosity gets the better of the sea witch.

 

“What are you doing here, Sheriff?” She asks and Emma shrugs her shoulder. She offers a sarcastic smile.

 

“Trying to get a drink.”

 

Ursula raises an eyebrow at her. Emma orders a whiskey. It’s late afternoon now and the bar is about as full as it ever is. Will Scarlet is stretched out over a booth in the back corner. There’s another guy at the other end of the bar. Robin is nowhere in sight and Emma wonders vaguely if his ex-wife’s momentary death had given him a wake up call. Hoping for someone in this town to get a happy ending seems like a stretch.

 

Emma nurses her whiskey, orders another one when her glass goes empty. The man at the end of the bar pays his tab and leaves. Orange light from the sunset filters in when he pulls the door open. Will Scarlet snores from his booth. Emma orders a third whiskey.

 

The door opens and closes again. Emma’s on the road to drunk, but present enough to notice the way Ursula tenses at the new arrival. She sets the glass in her hand down carefully and Emma tries to catch a reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

 

“What are you doing here?” Ursula asks tersely. Apparently, Emma and Frankenstein aren’t the only people unwelcome in Glowerhaven.

 

“Ursula, darling, is that how you greet an old friend?” The woman asks. Emma finally gives in, turning to face her. She’s tall and blonde. Pale faced with a bright red lip, she looks like she’s just stepped out of a movie from the sixties.

 

“An old friend? No,” Ursula replies. “You? Yes.”

 

“Ouch,” the woman grins, seemingly unaffected by the insult. “Relax, Sea Queen, I’m not here for you, anyway. Emma Swan, so good to finally meet you. You wouldn’t believe how often I hear about you.”

 

The woman turns her attention to Emma. Emma raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“I can’t say the same for you,” Emma responds bluntly. “Who the hell are you?”

 

The woman laughs, but Emma can see that her eyes are cold. Her instincts are telling her to be wary of this woman. She stalks closer to the bar, stopping a few feet in front of Emma. She catches her reflection in the mirror, pats at her perfectly coiffed hair.

 

“I’m Maleficent, dear,” she elaborates, not sparing Emma a glance. “Surely you’ve heard of me now.”

 

Emma glares at her as Maleficent studies herself in the mirror. She doesn’t remember vanity being a part of her story. Still, Emma shrugs her shoulders. Maleficent must see the movement in the mirror, her eyes finally returning to Emma.

 

“Nope,” Emma lies. Maleficent’s gaze turns icy. Emma smirks. “Care to tell me why you’re looking for me?”

 

“Ah, yes,” Maleficent nods. “Right to business. I expected as much from you, Sheriff. I’m here to deliver a message; Drop this case about those _poor_ murdered women.”

 

Emma stands from her stool. It scratches across the wooden floor loudly in the tense quiet.

 

“Or what?” She challenges. “I mean, no offense, but you’re a glorified courier. Why should I fear you?”

 

Maleficent waves her hand as though swatting at a fly. Emma’s shoulder hits the wall to her right, knocking the wind out of her. She slides down the wall to land on the floor. Maleficent advances, trying to affect an air of disinterest but Emma can read the rage in her eyes.

 

“Be careful, Sheriff,” she warns. “I’m more powerful than you think. And I’m not even the one you need to worry about.”

 

Emma pushes herself back to her feet. She puts her palms up and sends a burst of magic outwards, pushing Maleficent back against the opposite wall. The other woman growls as she regains her footing.

 

“Maybe,” Emma bites. “But you should definitely worry about me.”

 

Maleficent raises her arms again, readying for another attack. Suddenly, an odd rope wraps around them. Emma follows it to realize it’s not rope, but Ursula’s tentacles. Her glamour faded, she’s ensnared Maleficent’s hands.

 

“It’s time to go, Maleficent,” Ursula commands. Maleficent’s face contorts and Emma realizes Ursula’s grip on her wrists is tightening slowly. “Run back to your puppeteer, now.”

 

Ursula’s grip doesn’t ease up, but Maleficent disappears in a cloud of black smoke. Emma looks to Ursula in surprise. Before she can say anything, Will pops his head up in the back.

 

“Oi, a man’s tryin’ ta sleep back here,” he shouts before disappearing back into his booth. His snores pick up again. Emma moves back towards the bar.

 

“Every time you come into my bar, trouble follows,” Ursula comments. Her tentacles disappear in a purple glow, her glamour coming back up to give the appearance of legs. Emma shrugs.

 

“Maybe I’m just following the trouble,” Emma suggests dryly. She presses her palm to her shoulder and rolls it a few times. It aches at the movement and Emma suppresses a groan. One more thing she’ll have to deal with.

 

“Well, then, why don’t you follow it right on home?” Ursula suggests. She reaches across the bar, picking up Emma’s abandoned glass. There’s whiskey still sloshing around in it but the message is clear. Emma sighs and digs cash out of her pocket. She drops more than necessary on the bar and hopes it’ll be penance enough.

 

Emma heads for the door, stalling just in front of it to grunt out a thanks. Ursula doesn’t respond and Emma pushes through the door out onto the street. The sun has set and the sky is an inky blue, lit up by the lights of the city. She turns back towards the Nottingham.

 

-/-

 

Buzzed on both alcohol and adrenaline, Emma figures there’s no point in returning to her apartment. Instead she heads straight for her office. She startles at the sight of movement through the frosted window. One hand raised in defense, Emma pushes the door open slowly. Killian is standing on her desk chair, taping things to the wall. Emma groans and falls back against the door frame.

 

“Swan, you’re back,” Killian greets. He hops off the chair and picks something up from her desk, along with another piece of tape. “Wonderful.”

 

“What are you doing?” Emma asks, running her hand over her ponytail. Killian looks back at her with something like pride.

 

“I believe the Mundies call it a _murder wall_ ,” he explains, taping a piece of paper to the wall. The thought that it’s kind of cute of him runs unbidden through her alcohol slowed mind. Then she realizes she’ll inevitably have to clean it up. So, less cute. Killian continues his explanation, “This way we’ll have a linear way of seeing everything we’ve discovered.”

 

“We’ve discovered almost nothing,” Emma reminds him, dropping into the visitor’s chair. Killian turns, frowning at her.

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, love,” he insists. “We’ve actually got quite a bit.”

 

Emma moves her gaze upwards to examine the wall. The files she’d started for each victim have been completely dismantled and the pages are now hanging from her wall. Killian had even gone and taken pictures of the victims to hang. They’re polaroid photos and Emma wonders where they hell he got the camera.

 

“Well, here’s something new,” Emma tells him, slouching down in the chair. “Zelena was snooping around Trish and Nimue’s apartment, asking the landlord about witches in the building.”

 

Kilian frowns again, dropping into Emma’s desk chair.

 

“Zelena? The head witch of glamour production and distribution?” He asks. Emma nods. “That’s considerably worrisome.”

 

Emma nods in agreement. She still doesn’t quite know what to make of that piece of information. It’s probably connected to Emma’s visit from Maleficent. Currently, she’s enjoying the alcohol letting her brain move slowly for the first time in days.

 

“I’ve been thinking about it, though, and perhaps someone is trying to frame Regina,” Killian suggests. “Her history with Marian is town-wide knowledge. Perhaps it’s someone who knew her in the Enchanted Forest, for them to know about her history with Trish, though.”

 

“That doesn’t narrow the list down,” Emma sighs. “I don’t know if anyone who knew Regina back then actually liked her.”

 

Killian seems to consider this. Emma tips her head back over the back of the chair and closes her eyes. Emma knows Killian is staring. She is also electing to ignore it. He lets the silence hang over them for a whole thirty seconds.

 

“Swan,” he starts quietly. Emma knows where it’s going. She doesn’t have the will to stop it at the moment. “Would you like to talk about it?”

 

Emma sighs, lifting her head back up. She nods her head towards the side of her desk.

 

“Bottom drawer,” she points out. “Pour yourself a drink.”

 

Killian does as he’s told. He tips the bottle towards Emma but she shakes her head. She knows her limit. Buzzed is nice, drunk would be messy. Killian is patient, sips at his rum while Emma tries to find the words. She sits up, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her desk.

 

“You know my story, don’t you?” She asks. Killian’s eyes widen slightly. She knows it’s not what he’d been expecting. He answers, regardless.

 

“The magical daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming,” he comments. “Everyone knows that story.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma sighs. She watches Killian’s rum swirl around the glass. “It’s a good story. It’s missing a lot of parts, though. Like, when that magical daughter spent nearly three decades in the Mundy world alone. When she had to relearn her magic in this new world all by herself.”

 

Killian frowns and shakes his head.

 

“No, I don’t suppose they would put that in the storybooks, would they?” He comments. Emma shrugs. He leans forward on the desk as well. His hand wraps around his glass while his hook rests on the fake wood.

 

“What about the hook handed pirate who became a steadfast believer in justice, huh?” She asks. It earns her a chuckle from Killian. “What don’t they write about his story?”

 

“Nah, they’ve pretty much got me down pat,” he responds. Emma lets out a laugh in surprise at the response. She reaches across the desk and traces the curve of his hook with her fingers. Killian watches the movement.

 

“The fearsome Captain Hook,” she smirks. “Terror of the seven seas. A man who brought flowers to the woman he loved.”

 

Emma meets Killian’s eyes. Piercing blue and baring the hint of surprise. Emma isn’t sure what she’s done to bring that look on, but it makes her stomach squirm. In a good way. She likes that look, she thinks.

 

She pulls her hand back from his hook and Killian tips the rest of his drink back.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Killian starts again. Emma nods, defenses lowered. “Your mother said something about running away again earlier.”

 

“Is that a question?” Emma asks quietly. Killian gives her a dry look. “You remember that I wasn’t always the sheriff? Graham and I, we were… well, nothing. But, almost something. Does that make sense?”

 

Killian nods. Emma takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair. It’s an odd view, being on this side of the desk.

 

“After he died, you remember? About ten years ago?” At his nod, Emma continues, “I couldn’t deal, you know? I left Storybrooke for a few years. Just headed down the coast, made some messes, got my heartbroken. The usual.”

 

She lets out a brittle laugh. Her fingers interlock where she rests them on her stomach. The years away from Storybrooke had been some of her loneliest. Ironically, she’d run to escape the feeling of helplessness, the loss she was feeling. All she’d really found on her own was more ways she could get hurt. Killian frowns at her.

 

“What made you come back?” He asks.

 

“The same thing that made me leave,” Emma shrugs. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

 

When she’d gotten back, the sheriff job had been waiting for her. Apparently, no one else in town was interested in the responsibility. Her father had done the job while she was gone but was happy to return it to her. Emma would have refused, but she felt an obligation to Graham.

 

Killian is silent for a long time. Eventually, he twists the cap back on the rum bottle and returns it and his glass to the bottom drawer. He braces his palm on the desk and pushes himself upwards. Rounding the desk, Killian holds his hand out for her. Emma stares at him.

 

“What do you say we go talk to Cinderella about those funeral arrangements?” He suggests. Emma never had called her with all the chaos of the day. She nods, taking Killian’s hand and letting him pull her from the chair.

 

“You know, Emma,” he says conversationally as they cross the lobby. “I think we make quite the team.”

 

-/-

 

Cinderella lives in a nice building down the street from Granny’s. Emma knows she’d moved out of Nottingham a few years ago, but her new place isn’t bad. Definitely a few grades above Grif’s rundown apartment. Emma checks the mailbox inside for Cinderella’s apartment number and they take the elevator to the fourth floor.

 

“You think she’ll want to include Grif in Trish’s funeral?” Killian asks, leaning back against the mirrored wall of the car.

 

“Hard to say,” Emma shrugs. The numbers above the doors tick upwards and Emma concentrates on their glow. The movement of the elevator is upsetting her stomach. “Grif and Trish may have been explosive but he seemed to care. Ella really didn’t seem to trust him, though.”

 

Killian nods as the elevator jerks to a stop. Emma grips the handrail as she concentrates on keeping the contents of her stomach from coming back up. She regrets not stopping for something to eat to soak up the whiskey.

 

“Which way to her apartment?” Killian asks as they step out of the elevator. Emma scans the nearby door numbers, trying to figure out the number scheme. There’s a shout from down the hall to their right and a loud bang. Killian looks to Emma in surprise.

 

“That way, I’m guessing,” Emma says. She runs past Killian, heading down the hall towards the noise. She stops halfway to the end of the hall and tries to locate the source of the noise. There’s another loud noise and Emma turns towards it. Cinderella’s door, naturally. Emma isn’t even surprised anymore.

 

Emma tries the handle, but it doesn’t give. She pushes Killian back a few steps and kicks out at the door. The latch snaps and the door swings open. Cinderella is backed up against an open window on the other side of the room. Chesh is staring at Emma in surprise. His form is human but there are large, curled claws protruding from his nail beds. He has his hand around Ella’s throat, his claws poking into the skin of her cheek.

 

“Emma,” Ella gasps, struggling against the cat’s grip. Cheshire lets her go, grinning at Emma instead.

 

“Looking for a rematch, Sheriff?” He purrs. Ella falls to the wooden floor when Chesh backs away from her. Her cheek bleeds lightly from the claw marks.

 

“This time I won’t hold back,” Emma promises Chesh. He stalks towards her, hands giving away to large paws as his enchantment fades. He lunges from his back legs, transformation completing in midair. Emma side steps him and he lands in the open doorway.

 

With Chesh out of the way, Killian rushes over to Ella. He pulls her to her feet and sends her to another room. Chesh circles Emma, waiting for her to make a move. Emma pushes energy from her palms, striking the cat backwards in the coffee table. He growls and lunges at her again. Emma drops and rolls out of his range.

 

“Hey,” Killian calls out. Chesh turns at the shout, his tail whipping in agitation. Emma pushes up onto her feet. Killian is holding a standing lamp upside down across the room from her. Chesh is caught in the middle of them, looking between the two for the better target. Killian swings the lamp with one arm, catching Chesh with the heavy base. The cat hits the floor and slides, letting out a wail.

 

“Fucking pirate,” Chesh growls as he pushes himself back to his feet. “I’ve often wondered if you taste like seafood. I’m eager to find out.”

 

Killian holds the lamp out like a lion trainer with a chair. Chesh advances, Killian strikes out with the lamp. Emma uses the distraction of Killian to sneak up on the cat. She gets as close as she can manage and concentrates on Chesh. She raises her palms and the cat lifts into air. He gives out a high pitched yelp in surprise. Less than delicately, Emma tosses him into the opposite wall.

 

“Fools,” Chesh hisses, getting back to his feet. Emma can feel her energy draining from the magical output. Her earlier buzz is almost entirely gone but her stomach is churning unpleasantly. Something in her is saying this fight can’t end in their favor. “We’re on the same side.”

 

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Emma growls. She angles her palms outwards, tries to summon another attack. Nothing comes, her palms don’t prickle with magic. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Killian looks to her in shock. Chesh notices the moment of weakness and takes advantage. He lunges at Emma and Killian throws himself in front of her. Chesh’s large claws sink into Killian’s chest, tearing through his shirt and the skin underneath. Cheshire swipes him aside and Killian lands on the hardwood, unmoving.

 

“Killian!” Emma cries out. Before she can move, Chesh is aiming for another attack. Emma doesn’t know exactly what happens but her desperation and fear takes over. Everything she has left in her summons an attack that bursts outward from her. Cheshire flies backwards, slamming into a hanging shelf. It snaps under his weight and Cheshire tumbles to the floor. Emma hears the distinct snap of a bone and Cheshire’s pained cry.

 

Emma rushes to Killian’s side. He’s breathing, but there’s blood pouring profusely from his chest. She gasps, her breath coming shallowly, and calls out to him. Cheshire slinks out of the room, accepting his defeat as he favors his limp paw. Ella comes out of the bedroom and gasps in surprise, coming to stand next to Emma.

 

“Killian,” Emma begs, “Come on, Killian, stay with me.”

 

She holds her palms over his chest, trying to heal the wounds. It glows lightly for a moment before Emma’s magic fails her. She closes her eyes and tries harder, but her energy has been sapped by the day. Killian’s a Story and the wound can heal on it’s own but she needs to stop the bleeding or it won’t matter.

 

“Come on, Emma,” she mumbles to herself. Closing her eyes tightly once more, Emma concentrates on a different tactic. Her chest becomes tight but she feels the magic flowing around her. Emma, Ella, and Killian disappear in a cloud of white smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to see you Thursday! ; )


	6. kissing death and losing my breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all alright after that last update. Hope you're week's going well. Enjoy!

When Killian lets out a groan and opens his eyes, Emma almost weeps with relief. It’s been over an hour since she’d gotten them all back to the Nottingham. They’d startled the few people in the lobby with their sudden appearance, but David had been there and helped Emma get Killian up to her apartment. She’d told Cinderella to wait in the business office because she’d be safe there. Emma doubted Cheshire would be following them, but she didn’t know who else might try to give Ella a visit.

 

Killian tries to sit up, but Emma places her hand at his collar bone and presses him back down lightly. His eyes flutter closed. He reaches his hand up to grasp Emma’s wrist gently. She can feel his heart beating beneath her palm. He goes silent and Emma thinks maybe he’s drifted back into unconsciousness.

 

“I have to agree with you, love,” he comments lightly, startling Emma. His voice is quiet and slurred. “After today, I would have to say I’m a dog person, as well.”

 

Emma laughs, mostly in relief. She drops her head down to press her forehead against his shoulder. Killian’s other arm comes up to rest at her back. Emma had been so scared for a minute, there. Killian had drifted into awareness a few times while she and Merlin were trying to heal him, but he would always fall, gasping with pain, back into unconsciousness. Now, the room is quiet and Killian’s heart beats steadily against Emma’s skin. It’s nice.

 

So, of course, Killian has to ruin it.

 

“Am I in your bed, Swan?” he asks. Emma groans and lifts her head up. He’s gazing around her room and grinning. Emma frowns and pulls herself away from him. Killian lets go of her wrist and lets her pull back. She sits back on the bed.

 

“I’d have never heard the end of it if you’d bled out in the Nottingham lobby,” Emma tells him. Killian chuckles and looks down at his chest. It’s wrapped in bloodstained gauze, but the deep slices underneath it are mostly healed. The gashes had looked like multiple knife slices and she had thought they’d never stop bleeding. After Emma had wrapped the wounds to try and staunch the bleeding, Merlin had shown up to help her heal Killian.

 

“I suppose thanks are in order,” Killian says, struggling to sit up against the headboard. Emma watches him cautiously, but doesn’t try to stop him this time. “For saving my life.”

 

Emma stares at him, eyes drifting from the clench in his jaw as he rolls his shoulder to the bandages wrapped around his torso. She shakes her head at him.

 

“Call us even,” she offers. “You took those claws for me, after all. Thanks for that.”

 

Killian is watching her now. Emma reaches up and tugs at her ponytail apprehensively. She is lucky. She has people in her life who love her, it’s what makes the loss of friends like Nimue ache so profoundly. Killian had willingly risked his life for her, though. He’d thrown himself in front of the metaphorical bullet and it had almost killed him. All for Emma. She’s having a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

 

“Aye, well, I’d like to neuter that cat,” Killian grumbles. His eyes have landed on his shredded and discarded shirt on Emma’s floor. His leather jacket hangs from the bed frame, miraculously untouched. “That was a nice shirt.”

 

Emma tilts her head at him and asks, “Why?”

 

“Sorry?” Killian responds, bemused. Emma swallows and averts her gaze. Her fingers are stained with his blood and Emma’s eyes prickle at the sight.

 

“Why would you risk your life for me?” She asks finally. There’s a rustling sound as Killian shifts on the bed. Emma looks up to find him sitting up further, having scooted closer to her side. His bright blue eyes capture her gaze and she can’t look away.

 

“Because you’re worth risking my life for, Emma,” he says quietly.

 

It’s a slow thing, when Emma kisses him. She leans forward into his space, nose brushing against his. Killian’s hand comes up to rest at her jaw and Emma finally closes the distance, pressing her lips to his. And then, suddenly, it’s less slow. Killian’s hand guides her jaw as he kisses her back fiercely. Emma hands find their way to his shoulders, and then up into his hair. Killian’s hook rests against her hip and Emma pushes herself further into his space.

 

She presses him back into the headboard, kisses becoming hot and needy. His tongue swipes over her bottom lip and Emma melts for him. She tugs lightly on his hair as Killian pushes up against her, keeping up with her desperate pace. It had only taken them an hour to heal Killian up but Emma had been terrified. She’d had to table those emotions to focus on healing his wounds, her strength had been drained by the day’s events. Even with Merlin’s help, it had taken longer to heal the wounds than it should have. Emma channels all that fear and panic into kissing Killian now, reassuring himself with the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hand, the thud of his heart where her chest meets his.

 

Emma accidentally puts too much pressure on Killian’s shoulder and he groans in pain. She springs back like she’s been burned, but Killian follows her. His hand still on the side of her face, Killian tries to guide her back to him. For a moment, Emma complies, kissing him softly this time.

 

“Cinderella is waiting for us downstairs,” she sighs, pulling away. Killian’s eyes stay closed for a long moment and Emma studies him. Paler than normal skin and dark circles under his eyes aside, he looks alright. Alive, at least, which still feels a bit like a miracle. “Do you want me to talk to her by myself? You don’t really have a shirt right now.”

 

Killian smirks, his eyes opening finally. Emma wonders if maybe she should insist he stay here and sleep for a while. She doesn’t need to, though, as Killian nods.

 

“Aye, love, if you don’t mind,” he responds. “I may be too tired to be of any use at the moment, if I’m honest.”

 

“Yeah, you should rest,” Emma nods, frowning in concern. “I’ll just be downstairs so if you need anything or something starts to hurt that you don’t think should be-”

 

“I’ll be alright, Swan,” Killian assures her, his hand gently wrapping around her wrist again. Emma wonders if he can feel the way her pulse picks up. He leans back against the headboard and watches her through tired eyes. She wants to stay. “Don’t worry about me. Just come get me when you’ve decided our next move.”

 

She nods again, more to herself now as Killian’s eyes have slid shut. Sliding her wrist from his grasp, she pushes herself up from the bed. Emma stands for a minute, at the end of the bed and watches him doze, reassures herself of his continued existence. He seems to drift off easily, a quiet snore making its way from his open mouth. It’s quite the picture and Emma is loathe to leave it. Ferocious Captain Hook, indeed.

 

She smirks to herself and grabs her leather jacket from the back of a chair. She stops at the kitchen sink to try and scrub the reddish hue from her fingers one more time. It doesn’t really fade but the sight doesn’t make Emma’s chest hurt anymore. Killian lets out a loud snore from the bedroom. She zips her jacket up and heads out of the apartment.

 

-/-

 

Cinderella is sitting in the seat across from Snow’s desk when Emma enters the business office. She’s wrapped up in a heavy work jacket that Emma recognizes as one of her father’s. When Emma closes the door to the office behind her, Ella jumps up at the sound.

 

“Emma,” she squeaks in surprise. “How is Hook? Is he alright?”

 

Emma nods as she crosses the room to the girl. There’s a single band-aid on her cheek and Emma feels bad that no one had offered to heal the scratches for her. Ella sits back down in the seat, relieved at Emma’s nod. She’s a little surprised at the reaction over Killian’s health, but Cinderella’s story was always one of kindness and compassion. It’s good to know that some things don’t change with time.

 

“He’s resting but he’s gonna be fine,” Emma explains. She circles the desk and takes a seat in Snow’s large, plush chair. “How are you doing?”

 

“I’m alright,” Ella shrugs. She brushes her cheek against the rough collar of the jacket. Emma wonders if the scratches on her cheek itch the same way the ones on Emma’s chest had. “In a little bit of shock, maybe, but fine. I still don’t really know what happened.”

 

“Apparently, Cheshire considered you more of a suspect than I did,” Emma sighs. She has to admit she’s getting sick of being one step behind everyone. They need to put some focus on who exactly Chesh is working for. “What did he want from you?”

 

Ella chews on her lip and averts her gaze. Her hand comes up to scratch at the band-aid on her cheek. Emma remembers leaving the diner with Killian after the first time they spoke with Ella. He’d been insistent she was hiding something. Emma frowns at the girl and tilts her head.

 

“Ella, whatever it is,” Emma starts gently. “You can tell me. Does it have to do with what happened to Trish?”

 

“No,” Ella insists instantly. Her eyes are wide as she shakes her head. “No, I swear it doesn’t. Cheshire seemed to think so, too, but I swear. I never would have done it if I thought it was going to end up hurting Trish!”

 

Emma raises her hands up at an attempt to calm the girl down. Her breathing has picked up now and she’s babbling.

 

“Hey, calm down, okay?” Emma says. Ella takes a few deep breaths, but her eyes are still a little wild. “You’re not in trouble. I just need to know why Chesh decided to target you. What did he think you’d done?”

 

Ella sighs and twists her fingers together on the desk.

 

“I work two jobs,” Ella begins after a moment. “They’re not bad jobs but it’s paycheck to paycheck, you know? It’s hard. I mean, I had to move out of here because I couldn’t afford it. My new place isn’t that much cheaper which is why I got the second job. I’m just trying to get by.”

 

“What does this have to do with Chesh?” Emma asks, not unkindly.

 

“A few months ago, I came here. I needed a loan, but Snow said that they just couldn’t help me,” Ella frowns. She looks down at her lap. “I was desperate. I needed to pay my rent. So, I started looking for someone else who could help.”

 

“Oh, no, Ella, you didn’t,” Emma groans.

 

“Rumplestiltskin said I could pay him back in increments,” Ella continues. She lifts her hands and buries her face in them. Her words become muffled by her palms. “Only, I haven’t been able to pay him the last few weeks. Chesh seemed to think he targeted Trish because of it.”

 

The girl’s voice becomes ragged and her shoulders start to shake. Emma leans over the desk and manages to pull one of her hands from her face. She squeezes it gently.

 

“Ella, I assure you, if Rumplestiltskin is behind this, he did not target Trish because of you, alright?” Emma assures her. Ella hiccups a few times, wipes her eyes with her free hand. She can’t meet Emma’s eye but she nods. Emma sighs and releases her hand. “Listen, you should stay here for a while, just to be safe. Killian and I were actually coming to see you to ask if you wanted to make funeral arrangements for Trish. Maybe you can start thinking that over while we figure this out.”

 

Ella nods again. She curls herself up in the chair, David’s large coat making her look even smaller. Emma sighs, heart aching for the girl. Didn’t the Mundies always say she was supposed to get a happy ending?

 

“Come find me in my office if you need anything, alright?” Emma says. Ella doesn’t respond, but Emma knows she’s heard her. Emma pulls the door to the business office open and exits. It hasn’t been long enough that Emma can justify waking Killian back up. Instead, she heads down the hall to her office. Killian’s murder wall is the first thing she sees. It feels like it’s been more than just a few hours since she’d caught him making it.

 

Frowning, Emma takes a seat in the visitor’s chair and stares at the wall. There’s something niggling at the back of her mind, the barest hints of a pattern. There’s an outlier, though, and Emma feels like there’s a piece missing. She sits back and stares at the wall for a while.

 

-/-

 

It’s how Killian finds her about an hour and a half later. He comes into the office, left arm held carefully in front of his chest. Emma jumps up to help him to the chair she’s vacated. It earns her a look, though Killian allows her to settle him into it.

 

“Don’t go soft on me just because I’m injured, Swan,” he gripes. Emma sighs and leans back against her desk in front of him.

 

“Is it soft to worry?” She asks. Killian frowns and stands up from the chair she’d just made him sit in to stand in front of her. He cups her face gently. The skin of his palm is warm and rough and Emma leans into the contact a little.

 

“I’m alright, love,” he assures her. His thumb strokes gently over her cheek. “I’ve no intention of leaving you.”

 

Emma’s breath catches at the words. She’s caught in Killian’s gaze but manages to drop her eyes. She realizes he’s wearing a new shirt under his jacket. It’s a bright blue and compliments his eyes. Emma pulls away from his touch to round the desk. Killian’s hand drops from the air before he settles himself back in the chair gently.

 

“Nice shirt,” Emma comments. Killian looks down to his chest and hums. “Where’d you get it?”

 

“Your father lent it to me, actually,” Killian explains. Emma’s eyebrow raise in surprise and Killian chuckles. “To tell you the truth, I thought he’d come to your apartment to finish what the cat had started. Perhaps smother me in my sleep.”

 

Emma smirks. Her parents work because they’re able to foil each other. They both believe so steadfastly in having hope and doing the right thing. But where Snow is easy to see the good in people and offer second chances, David holds his skepticism until he’s sure a person is deserving of that trust.

 

“They also took Cinderella to their apartment for some much needed rest,” Killian adds. Emma nods. She’s glad they’re making sure the girl is taken care of, shouldn’t really expect any less from her parents. They’re probably working on a way to help Cinderella out of her debt as she and Killian speak.

 

“I have a theory,” Emma says, changing the topic. If Killian is surprised by the abrupt statement, he doesn’t show it.

 

“Care to share?” He asks. Emma frowns and shakes her head.

 

“Not yet. There’s something missing to it,” she admits. She hesitates for a beat, considering Killian as he shifts in his chair. Then, she continues, “Can you tell me about Milah?”

 

Killian’s surprise shows on his face this time. Emma figures she could have eased into the topic, but it doesn’t matter. She needs to know more about the woman. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and Milah feels like a piece from a different box they’re trying to force to fit.

 

“What would you like to know?” KIllian asks, scratching behind his ear. Emma smiles fondly at the familiar gesture of nervousness.

 

“Anything,” Emma shrugs. “Just tell me about her.”

 

Killian goes quiet for a few moments. Emma waits patiently for him to decide what to say. She doesn’t know how she’d react to being put on the spot about Graham. Killian and Milah had known each other and been together much longer than her and Graham. Years of knowing a person are hard to condense into a few sentences.

 

“She was fierce,” Killian starts eventually. His features soften into a smile as he describes her. It might make Emma a bit jealous in another situation. Instead, it makes her chest feel warm as Killian describes his first love to her. “Milah was a force to be reckoned with, she was. Gave me a run for my money on more than one occasion. A tropical storm of a woman. Never knew what she saw in me, but gods, I’d never known I could belong anywhere until Milah.”

 

“When did you two meet?” Emma asks softly.

 

“Back in the Enchanted Forest many years before the Darkness began vanishing lands,” he tells her. “She was married still, unhappy with it, though. Her husband was no longer the man she’d fallen in love with.”

 

“So, she ran away with you?” Emma prompts, tilting her head. Killian has a way of telling a story like it’s a whirlwind romance. She thinks maybe it was. Treacherously, her mind wonders what story he might tell of them someday.

 

“No, not right away,” Killian sighs. “Milah still felt a duty, a love for her husband and son. But, inevitably, the unhappiness became too much and she asked me to take her away. We sailed for a few years, but Milah’s guilt over her son eventually sent her home for him.”

 

Emma frowns. She remembers Milah around Storybrooke, with and without Killian. She’d never seen a son with the woman.

 

“When we settled in Storybrooke, you two were together, though,” Emma points out. “What happened?”

 

“Milah found me again while preparations were being made to move to this world, she’d never told me what happened with her husband or her son,” Killian shrugs. He continues, sending Emma a meaningful look, “But we’d heard that the king and queen had sent ahead a very powerful scout to this world, a _Saviour_. We agreed to travel here together.”

 

Emma ducks her head and tries to process Killian’s story. Milah sounded like a woman desperate to remove herself from an unfortunate situation. Poor mistakes aside, she’d only been trying to find the best outcome for everyone. Can Emma really judge a woman for leaving their child behind?

 

“You said her husband had changed. Rumplestiltskin, right?” Emma asks. Killian nods. “What happened? Was it his power, or…?”

 

“No, the man had no magic when Milah left him. They’d grown apart, Rumplestiltskin had shown himself to be a coward and their village branded his whole family as such. It made living hard,” Killian explains, his eyes growing stormy at the topic of the man. “When Milah returned to him, he had embraced dark magic. She’d never tell me the story, but I always got the feeling it was what had cost them their boy.”

 

“And Rumplestiltskin blamed her?”

 

“Aye,” Killian nods grimly. “Any time we encountered the man he was furious and vengeful. Milah wouldn’t have admitted it, but I knew she feared him.”

 

Emma twists around to look at the murder wall behind her. She hears Killian shift in his chair and imagines he’s followed her gaze.

 

“Did Milah have any magical ability? Any sort of powers?”

 

“No,” Killian says, confused by the question. “Swan, what are you thinking?”

 

Emma groans and covers her face with her hands. Trying to figure out how it ties together is making her head spin. There’s something fighting to be heard in her brain but she can’t access it.

 

“I don’t know,” she admits. She’s feeling helpless again and Emma won’t sit back and let that feeling overtake her. There might not be a lead on those woman right now, but they have other things they can focus on. Emma turns back to Killian, feeling determined.

 

“First, we have a cat to declaw,” she says. “And I have an idea of how we can do it.”

 

Killian perks up.

 

-/-

 

The sun has come up again by the time they get their plan into motion. Which means Emma has gone twenty-four hours without sleep once again. She resolves to nap once they can take a breath. She’s camped out in the shadows across the street from Oxleigh Arrangements. Killian joins her, holding a carrying tray of coffees. Emma takes the one with her name on it and tips it to her lips for a long drink.

 

“Anything yet?” Killian asks. He trains his eyes on the shop across the street as well. Emma shakes her head in the negative.

 

“Not yet,” she sighs. “We could be here for hours.”

 

Killian settles against the brick wall. It’s been long enough that his wounds seem to have healed. He’s no longer keeping one arm braced against his chest, at least. There’s movement down the street and Emma’s eyes widen in surprise.

 

“Or not,” she amends. Killian straightens up to get a better look. Chesh continues his path down the sidewalk towards the flower shop. Emma and Killian shuffle further back into the shadows of the alley. Cheshire’s right hand and wrist are wrapped tightly and he favors that side as he walks. Emma would feel bad if she hadn’t spent last night trying not to have a breakdown over Killian’s unconscious form.

 

The cat pulls the door to the flower shop open and steps inside. Emma watches him flip the sign to _CLOSED_ and she knows their plan will actually work. It’s been such a horrible few days of disappointment, even their simple plan had seemed like a longshot.

 

Emma figured Chesh would look into Nimue’s contacts first, probably starting with Merlin. So, Emma told Merlin to make sure Moe and any of his friends knew he’d be at the flower shop all day. They’d given him a fake lead to give Chesh in order to keep their encounter as short as possible. Emma knew Merlin could handle himself against the feline, especially if his paw hadn’t fully healed yet.

 

Within minutes, the cat comes back out of the store. Emma smirks at Killian who wags his eyebrows at her. Emma finishes off her coffee, tossing it in a dumpster, and they follow after Cheshire.

 

The cat leads them around Storybrooke, luckily on foot which makes trailing him easier. Emma begins to wonder at one point if he knows he’s being followed. Eventually, they follow him down towards the waterfront. It’s still early afternoon and Emma is surprised the plan is going so well. She hadn’t expected the cat to lead them to his employer easily.

 

Emma and Killian tuck themselves into an alley as Cheshire approaches a dilapidated office building. Emma figures this is where they’ll lose him, if he goes inside they won’t be able to follow. But Emma and Killian had discussed this part, they’re prepared to stake out the building and keep stock of who comes out.

 

Instead of heading inside, Chesh presses an intercom buzzer three times and disappears into the alley next to the building. Emma shoots a look at Killian who appears just as befuddled as she is.

 

“What the fuck is he doing?” Emma breathes. Killian shrugs, eyes locked on the door of the office building. Eventually, it pushes open from inside. The glass catches the sunlight and Emma has to blink spots from her eyes. She catches the person that exits as they round the corner of the building into the alley where Cheshire waits.

 

“Who is that?” Killian asks quietly. Emma squares her shoulders and glares at the direction where the man has disappeared.

 

“A dead man,” she growls. She takes off across the street towards the building. Stopping only for a moment to examine the call box in the entryway, Emma lets out a curse. She continues determinedly around the building and into the alley. Killian is hot on her heels, despite his lack of information.

 

“Jefferson, what the fuck?” She barks as soon as she’s in view of the two men. Jefferson startles at her outburst but Cheshire seems otherwise unaffected. Emma wonders if the cat had led them here on purpose. “You hired this asshole?”

 

“No offense meant, I’m sure,” Cheshire drawls. His eyes land on Killian as he rounds the corner as well. “Captian, I see you’ve healed well.”

 

“See you haven’t,” Killian bites back. Cheshire’s eyes narrow as he cradles his injured hand to his chest. Emma turns her attention back to Jefferson.

 

“Do you know he tried to kill me? _Twice_?” Emma demands. “What the hell did you hire him for that involved stalking and attacking the family and friends of murder victims? Have you finally _completely_ lost your mind?”

 

“Nice to see you, too, Emma. You look well. A little tired, are you getting enough sleep?” Jefferson responds, ignoring her questions. Emma gives him an unimpressed look. “Chesh wouldn’t have killed you, because then he wouldn’t have gotten paid.”

 

Emma glances at Cheshire. She’s not entirely sure, it hadn’t stopped him from wounding Killian with an attack meant for her. Her glare lands once again on Jefferson as he continues, “Besides, Emma, there’s no reason to fight. We’re all on the same side here.”

 

“Good,” Emma nods. Jefferson seems to brighten at her acceptance. She glances back at Killian who seems surprised. “Then you won’t mind coming with us.”

 

She flicks her wrist and a swirl of white smoke engulfs her, Killian, and Jefferson. They leave Chesh alone in the alley and Emma transports them back to the business office. Jefferson looks around wildly when the smoke fades as Snow startles at their sudden arrival.

 

“Emma,” she gasps. Red turns in surprise at Snow’s shout. Snow takes in the new arrival and narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

 

“Jefferson, here, has been looking into the murders, too,” Emma explains, nudging Jefferson towards Snow’s desk. He’s shaking now and Emma frowns at him. “And he’s gonna tell us why.”

 

“No, no, no,” Jefferson mumbles repeatedly. Emma pushes him down into the visitor’s chair at Snow’s desk. “No, I can’t be here, Emma. Not with _you_.”

 

“Why?” Emma frowns, sitting on the corner of the desk and glaring at Jefferson. “Who’s gonna see you? Why are you investigating those women’s deaths?”

 

Jefferson’s hands wring, he picks at the skin around his nails. He continues to look wildly about the room. Emma leans towards him, attempting to get him to focus on her rather than the expansive room.

 

“Jefferson, come on,” she tries again, softer this time. She realizes he’s scared of something, or someone, and she needs to know who. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you. You said we’re on the same side, right? What side is that?”

 

“The truth,” he says suddenly, his eyes coming back to hers. They’re wide and crazed, but suddenly very serious. “I was told to find the truth, the parts of it that matter, anyway.”

 

“Told by who?” Snow asks, coming to stand next to Emma. Jefferson is visibly shuddering now and Emma is becoming concerned. She hadn’t intended to put him in danger by bringing him here. The way Jefferson is reacting, you’d think he were going to explode at any moment.

 

Jefferson stops fidgeting with his hands to cup them around his mouth. He stage whispers, “The mayor.”

 

“The mayor?” Emma asks, frowning. Jefferson nods, pressing his palms flat over his mouth now. “Why is she having someone look into it privately?”

 

“Why does the good mayor do anything, Emma?” Jefferson hisses, leaning towards Emma. “She wants to clear her own name. And if the killer is who we’re all thinking it is, it’s a beautifully poetic way for Regina to take his powers.”

 

Emma considers this for a moment. She’d stricken Regina from the suspect pool but Regina had continued a private investigation, anyway. It didn’t exactly scream above board mayoral operations. Regina had always been up for a good addition to her power.

 

“Why are you helping her, Jefferson?” Emma asks. “After what she did to you…”

 

“ _I’m_ not the one in danger by being here with you,” Jefferson whispers harshly. His eyes have gone wide again and Emma understands. Regina wouldn’t threaten Jefferson as a means of motivation, she’d threaten his daughter. A cold dread washes over her at the realization, the position she’s put him in.

 

“Go home, Jefferson,” Emma tells him. “No one knows you were here but us.”

 

With that, Emma flicks her wrist again. This time Jefferson is the only one to disappear in a plume of smoke, back to the alley Emma had plucked him from. When she turns to the group, Snow is pacing back and forth next to her desk. Red is watching her warily.

 

“Snow, we should tell them,” Red says gently. Emma frowns, looking between the two women. Snow halts her pacing and sighs.

 

“You’re right,” she nods. Red gives her a reassuring smile. Emma sits back on the corner of the desk while Killian drops into Jefferson’s vacated chair. “Red and I have been doing our own investigation of sorts over the past months. Into Regina.”

 

“What?” Emma asks, looking between the two of them. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

 

“Yes, but it’s worth it,” Snow insists. “She’s been skimming money from the town. Paying for things off book and coming up with flimsy excuses for it. We don’t have enough for a hearing yet, but we’re getting there.”

 

“You’re serious?” Emma prompts, chest swelling with an odd mix of pride and anxiety at what her mother and her friend are attempting. “You’re gonna try to oust Regina?”

 

Snow nods, “When we were forced to come here, to this new world, I was hoping it could be a fresh start. For all of us. I thought if we all just tried to be better, we could. But, it seems that, against everything I wanted to believe about people, some just can’t change.”

 

Emma straightens up to reach for her mother, squeezing her hand gently. Snow smiles at the gesture. Going up against Regina is dangerous and Snow and Charming had made a habit of it in the Enchanted Forest. But there they’d used spells and armies. Here, there’s nothing protecting her mother but the bureaucratic process.

 

Emma could not be more proud of Snow for pursuing it anyway.

 

“If she’s dirty,” Emma assures her. “We’ll bring her down.”

 

-/-

 

“You really mustn’t baby me, Swan,” Killian says even as he settles onto her couch. Emma rolls her eyes and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. She joins him in the living room and holds the bottle out to him. “Got anything stronger?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and sets the bottle on the coffee table.

 

“Not for the injured, pal,” she responds. Killian pouts and Emma eases herself down onto the couch next to him. “And I’m not babying you, alright? But it’s been a rough couple of days and we both need rest. You, especially. If you’re getting that rest here, I don’t have to worry about you. This is for my benefit, so shut up and stop complaining.”

 

She smirks at him, but Killian’s eyes have gone soft as he studies her. It’s that same look that had made her stomach squirm in her office the day before. Emma shifts under his scrutiny but doesn’t pull herself away from him.

 

“You’d worry for me?” He asks quietly.

 

Emma considers him for a moment. Instead of answering, she leans over and presses her lips to his. He responds eagerly, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. Emma sighs into him and nips at his bottom lip. She pulls away, licking her lips.

 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I’d worry.”

 

She leans away from him. Killian watches her retreat. Emma reaches behind her head and tugs her ponytail out of her hair, releasing the tension on her skull. Killian reaches over, running his fingers through the tangled curls.

 

“We need to talk about that,” she starts. “About, you know, whatever it is we’re doing.”

 

“Doing?” Killian questions, raising an eyebrow. Emma sighs and pulls a little further away from him. His hand falls from her hair.

 

“It’s been a long couple days full of emotions and close quarters and not a lot of sleep,” Emma explains. Killian frowns, not following her train of thought. “So, if all the affection and the kissing, if that’s just a sleep deprived reaction to a tense situation, it’s okay. Just, uh, just let me know.”

 

Killian is quiet for a long moment and Emma thinks maybe she’s pegged it. Her chest hurts a little at the thought, but she’s survived worse. Killian not caring for her that way won’t kill her. He shifts closer to her on the couch suddenly, his hand finding hers and squeezing.

 

“Emma, I told you I didn’t belong anywhere until I met Milah,” he starts, staring at their interlocked fingers. Suddenly, he turns his attention up to her, gaze piercing. “I never thought I’d find that again, but I have. When I met you. So, if this is your way of telling me you’ve no feelings for me, that’s alright. But, if possible, I’d like to remain in your company in whatever way you’re comfortable with.”

 

Emma stares at him, surprised by the words. His touches had always been hesitant, but gentle. They’d bicker and flirt and Emma never thought he meant much by it. He came by to bother her because he didn’t want her to forget about Milah, she thought. Her free hand comes up to touch his cheek lightly. Killian’s eyes drift shut and he leans into the touch.

 

Emma gives him a soft smile and sighs. She pulls her hand back and pushes up from the couch. Killian frowns, opening his eyes to follow the movement.

 

“You should really get some sleep,” Emma insists, tugging gently with the hand still twined with his. Killian lets her pull him from the couch.

 

Emma leads him back to the bedroom. Killian sheds his jacket and Emma kicks off her boots. Her sheets are, miraculously, blood free as she pushes him down on them. Emma commands he lay back and get some sleep. She circles the bed and climbs into it on the opposite side. Killian is obviously surprised by the move, but adjusts easily. He stretches his arm out invitingly and Emma lets herself curl into his side, head pillowed on his chest. Arms around her, Killian reaches for his hook and twists it out of the brace, placing it on the bedside table.

 

Emma has to admit, she feels a bit like she belongs, as well.

 

It takes almost no time for them both to drift off, exhaustion of the last few days taking over. Even Killian’s snoring can’t rouse Emma. They manage to sleep through the evening and into the night, curled up in Emma’s bed. Emma’s dreams are full of hearts and claws, but also Killian and her mother serving as white knights for the people. It feels like a fairytale.

 

The call doesn’t come until sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	7. life slips away, ghosts come to play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to wrap up, guys. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Emma wakes up to sunlight streaming through her bedroom window and someone banging on her door. She shifts to turn towards the noise and Killian’s arm tightens around her.

 

“Ignore it,” he insists. Emma smirks but shoves his arm away along with the blankets. Killian groans and flops onto his back, shielding his face from the sunlight with his arm. Emma locates her phone on the bedside table and frowns. 10 missed calls.

 

“That’s bad,” she comments. Emma hears Killian shift into a sitting position behind her, but the banging on the apartment door starts up again. “Shit.”

 

She crosses the apartment and tugs the door open. Red is standing on the other side, her arm still poised in the air to continue knocking. She gives Emma a frustrated look.

 

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” Red explains. Emma nods and offers an apology, but Red blows past it. “You better come down to the business office. We’ll wait for you.”

 

Emma nods and Red turns to head back towards the elevator. Killian appears behind Emma as she closes the door. He wears a concerned frown as he tilts his head at her.

 

“What’s going on?” He asks. Emma shakes her head and heads past him back into the bedroom.

 

“Nothing good,” she responds. “Apparently, everyone is waiting for us down in the business office.”

 

Killian trails behind her, following her lead when she tugs her boots back on her feet. He holds her jacket out for her and Emma takes it gratefully. She realizes her body must have needed the sleep even more than she’d realized for her to sleep through the phone calls. Whatever is going on, it’s bad.

 

The elevator ride down to the first floor is short but tense. Killian reaches for Emma’s had at one point, grasping it gently as he twines their fingers. He gives her a reassuring smile and Emma bumps her shoulder against his. When they reach the business office, Red is waiting for them with her parents. Emma feels stronger by the reminder that whatever she’s walking into, she’s far from alone in it.

 

“Emma, thank the gods,” Snow sighs, embracing Emma. “We couldn’t get a hold of you and no one was answering at your apartment, we were so worried.”

 

Emma squeezes her mother back before pulling away. She offers them a chagrined smile.

 

“Sorry, we were sleeping,” she explains. “What’s going on?”

 

“ _We_?” David exclaims, looking between Emma and Killian. Emma runs a hand through her hair and shrugs.

 

“Charming, now is not the time,” Snow reprimands. David pouts and Emma hides her grin behind her hand at the scene. Snow returns to the topic at hand, continuing, “We found another body.”

 

“Oh, shit,” Emma sighs. She’s almost too afraid to ask her next question. “Who is it?”

 

“We don’t know,” Red responds, shrugging. She pushes off of her spot against Snow’s desk and waves for the group to follow her. She leads them back towards the catacombs. “None of us recognize her and we can’t find her in the book.”

 

“Great,” Emma comments sarcastically. “More dead ends. I was just starting to think this whole thing didn’t have enough questions.”

 

“We’ll figure it out, Emma,” her father assures her. He falls into step beside her to squeeze her arm gently. Emma offers him a smile. Red leads them into the catacomb where there are now three bodies. Emma’s stomach flips uncomfortably at the sight as she stalls in the doorway. She hasn’t come back to the room since she’d removed the glamour from Nimue’s body. She feels a hand settle on her lower back and glances back to see Killian waiting with her.

 

“You alright, love?” He asks quietly, just for her. Emma nods and continues into the room. Red and her parents are already standing around the third body and Emma joins them. She avoids looking at Nimue as she passes. The new woman on the table wears a blood stained jean jacket. Her red hair falls in waves around her pale face.

 

“Oh,” Emma says, once her eyes land on her face. A long scar trails from the outside corner of one eye to the outside corner of the other, branching upwards across her forehead on one side. Her eyelids are perpetually closed, mended together by the scars. Emma frowns and Snow catches her look.

 

“Do you know her?” She asks, motioning towards the woman on the stone table. Emma shakes her head.

 

“No, not really, but I have met her,” Emma explains. The memory is hazy but she definitely remembers the woman. “Graham and I interviewed her not long after the Exodus. I have a file on it in the office, I think. We were evaluating her ability to live undetected in the Mundy world.”

 

The woman had wanted to spend her time traveling and exploring this new world, rather than staying in one place. It wasn’t unheard of, Graham had decided that people who wanted to do such should be catalogued, for the sake of the town resident count, and interviewed, to make sure they wouldn’t cause suspicion. She’d been able to create her own powerful glamour which allowed her to pass for a typical blind woman and Graham had decided she wouldn’t be a worry.

 

“What’s happened to her hands?” Killian asks, indicating the bloody wounds on her palms. Emma’s stomach rolls. She thought she’d gotten used to the sight of the claw marks, apparently not.

 

“She was a seer,” Emma murmurs. The wounds in her hands are smaller in size compared to the one in her chest but otherwise incredibly similar. There’s less blood, Emma thinks that means they’d happened after she’d died. “Her eyes were in her palms.”

 

David makes a noise of surprise behind her and Killian glances wide-eyed at the wounds again before meeting Emma’s eye. She shrugs. More about her and Graham’s interview is surfacing and Emma remembers the woman more clearly now. She didn’t want her powers, had grown weary of them over the years. She wanted to live in a non-magical world where no one would expect things of her.

 

“I think her name was Brighid,” Emma continues, the name standing out in her mind. She makes a mental note to look for her file. “She lived in the Mundy world, but she still had a home here. I know she came back every few years. Were her eyes at the scene?”

 

“No,” Red answers, shaking her head. She waves her hand towards the crushed heart lying near the woman’s head. “Same as the other two, just her heart.”

 

“That’s weird, right?” Emma comments. “Why keep her eyes? Or why go to the trouble of scratching them out just to leave them somewhere else?”

 

The question is rhetorical and no one seems to have an answer anyway. Emma considers Brighid. If nothing else, it makes Emma’s pattern more clear. Which makes Milah the outlier which, honestly, kind of makes her connect again. Emma scrunches her face up, inwardly groaning at her own confused thoughts.

 

“Is there anyone we should contact about her?” Snow asks. Emma shakes her head.

 

“I don’t think she had any family members in town,” she sighs. “I can’t know for sure until I find her file, though. Killian and I will go look for it, we’ll let you know when we have something.”

 

As the group files out the room, Emma hears David murmur to Snow, “What did she mean ‘ _we_ ’?”

 

She glances over at Nimue’s body. She frowns and carefully pats the woman’s pockets, stopping when she feels the hard angles of her cell phone. Killian watches curiously but doesn’t question her when she pulls the device out of Nimue’s pocket. Clicking the button on the side, a battery flashes on the screen. Emma pockets it.

 

Snow and Red return to their jobs while David heads up to the apartment to check on Cinderella and Emma and Killian head to her office. Emma searches for the file in the old filing cabinets. After she had been working by herself for a few years, most of Graham’s meticulous organization had gone to the wayside. Luckily, most of the interview files haven’t been touched since they were filed all those years ago.

 

“Remember that theory I was talking about yesterday?” She asks as she’s flipping through the files in one of the drawers. Killian hums in the affirmative from where he’s looking through a different cabinet. “I’m ready to commit to it now. We’ve been trying to connect these women to Milah, but maybe there is no connection.”

 

“You think this is a different person?” Killian asks, halting his search to look at her. Emma looks up to shake her head at him.

 

“No, but I think Milah is our outlier,” she explains. “It was so long ago, I don’t think her death is _connected_ these women’s.”

 

“Okay,” Killian nods, following her process. “So, what’s your theory?”

 

Emma gives a shout of victory as she finds Brighid’s file. She holds it up triumphantly for Killian to see. He grins at her as Emma slaps it down on her desk.

 

“A prophetess, a sorceress, and a seer,” Emma answers.

 

“Is the the beginning to a joke?” Killian interrupts as he cross the room to sit in the chair across from hers. Emma gives him a look. She settles into her desk chair and open’s Brighid’s file.

 

“What do they all have in common?” She continues. “The future. That’s the link between them, why Zelena was going around asking about magic users. Whoever is killing them, they’re trying to find something.”

 

“Unsuccessfully,” Killian comments. He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and frowning. “Is that why he’s killing them? Because they aren’t giving him what he wants?”

 

“Maybe,” Emma sighs. “Or they’re not getting the answer they’re hoping for. That’s what bugs me, though. The _way_ they’re killing them, literally tearing out their hearts in such a violent way, it seems like rage. But then, cleaning up after themselves is so meticulous. The glamour on Nimue and taking Brighid’s eyes. Those don’t seem like the reactions of someone responding in anger, they’re calculated ways of covering their tracks.”

 

“Perhaps he’s just a sociopath,” Killian suggests. Emma hums, annoyed at the lack of answers. Figuring out the pattern between the victims has only raised more questions. She looks down at Brighid’s file, remembering why they’d pulled it out in the first place.

 

“No family,” she says, flipping through the short report. Graham’s neat script details Brighid’s interview and her reasons for leaving. There’s an address for her apartment in Storybrooke. “But I was right about her place in Storybrooke. Let’s grab something to eat and check it out, maybe it’ll lead us somewhere.”

 

Killian nods in agreement and stands from his chair. Emma moves to do the same, but remembers Nimue’s phone in her pocket. She pulls it out, along with the extra phone charger in her desk drawer and plugs it in. Killian opens the office door and Emma follows him out into the hall.

 

“So, which first?” Killian asks. “Food or the apartment?”

 

Emma stomach grumbles quietly as she thinks about the last time she’d eaten. A poptart two days ago. Jesus, she has got to take better care of herself.

 

“Definitely food,” she responds. Killian lets her go through the spinning front door first before following. As they reach the courtyard, Emma stomach gives another, louder gurgle. Killian looks at her in surprised amusement. He twists his hand out towards the front gate with a flourish.

 

“As you wish.”

 

-/-

 

The apartment is mostly a bust. Brighid has a deal with her landlord to rent it out while she’s out of the city. It’s devoid of anything personal, just furniture and appliances. Even the DVR is empty of any recordings or favorites. The only positive from the outing is that, now rested and well fed, Emma is starting to feel like a human being again. There’s one last thing she desperately needs, though.

 

She sends Killian back home, insisting he shower and change as she intends to do the same. Killian’s been home even less than Emma has in the last few days and she feels a little bad. If she hasn’t been eating, sleeping, or bathing, it’s fair to say Killian probably hasn’t been either. They agree to meet at her office when they’re finished.

 

At this point, Emma’s hair is more tangles than curls, but she eases them out under the hot water of her shower. Once in front of a mirror, she takes stock of the injuries of the past few days. There are still four thin red lines down her chest from Chesh’s claws. She’s got a purple bruise on her shoulder from where Maleficent had thrown her against the wall. Between everything else that has happened in the past nearly forty-eight hours, Emma had almost completely forgotten about the encounter. It’s still tender to the touch and she hisses as she prods it with her finger.

 

She wraps a towel around her and sets to work on getting the bruise down from a deep purple to a faded color. Once it no longer hurts, Emma stops trying. Bruises are harder to heal magically than breaks in the skin. The popped blood vessels underneath the skin are finicky that way. Healing bones can take hours of short bursts of magical healing. Sometimes, it’s easier to heal things the Mundy way; doctor visits and pain pills.

 

There’s a knock at her door just after she finishes buttoning her jeans. She tugs a t-shirt over her head as she heads for the door, pulling it open once she’s properly covered. Killian leans against the door jamb on the other side. He looks cleaned up, stubble back to it’s perfectly trimmed length and hair neatly parted to one side. Good, Emma supplies in her mind, he looks good.

 

“Killian,” she greets, a little more breathless than she intends. Killian doesn’t miss it, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

 

“I know we were going to meet at your office,” he says. “But you weren’t there yet and I thought- well, I suppose it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume I’d be welcome. Apologies, Swan, but I did want to return your father’s shirt.”

 

Emma hums, pointing out, “My parents live on the fifth floor.”

 

Killian gives a sheepish grin and reaches up to scratch behind his ear. Her father’s shirt hangs, adorably, from his hook near his waist. Emma chuckles and waves him inside.

 

“Come in. Sit down and take your shirt off,” she commands, leading him into the living room. Killian stalls, eyebrows ticking up in surprise. Emma rolls her eyes at him. “I want to look at your scratches, Captain. You aren’t _shy_ , are you?”

 

“Nothing to be shy about, I assure you, Swan,” he responds in a low voice as he passes closely by her. Goosebumps break out over Emma’s skin as his hand grazes across it. He let’s David’s shirt fall onto the arm of the couch and sheds his jacket before he sets to work unbuttoning his shirt with his right hand. Emma is sure he’s capable, but he’s just begging for payback.

 

She steps up, hands coming up to his shirt buttons as she pushes his hand away. Killian’s gaze burns on her face as her fingers trail down his shirt, taking her time with each button. When she brushes the edges of his shirt aside to get a look at his chest, Emma feels Killian’s breath hitch. She trails her fingers down the contours of his chest, studiously avoids his gaze. The deep gashes Emma had wrapped almost two days ago are angry red lines across his skin now.

 

“They’ve healed really well,” she observes, tracing the pads of her fingers across one the marks. She can feel Killian’s heartbeat thudding through his ribcage, beating at the same quick speed as her own.

 

“Swan,” he breathes. Emma finally looks up to meet his dark gaze. Killian’s hand comes up to her face, kissing her so suddenly it leaves her breathless. He backs her up until she hits the wall that divides the living room from the kitchen. Emma pulls her hands, still pressed to his chest, from between their bodies and tangles them in his hair. The side of Killian’s hook presses into her hip, the cool metal burning against her skin through her t-shirt.

 

She gasps when his mouth separates from hers suddenly, pressing hot and needy against her jaw before traveling down her neck. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of her throat and Emma groans. Her fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder, guiding him back up to her mouth with the hand at the back of his head.

 

“Gods, Emma,” he groans against her mouth and Emma lets out a breathless laugh. She nips at his bottom lip and Killian crowds her further against the wall, body pressed flush to hers. They break apart slowly, placing lingering kisses as they catch their breath.

 

“Okay,” Emma breathes, planting her hands on Killian’s chest and pushing him away. She ducks her head and licks her lips. “We so cannot do that right now.”

 

“You’re right, we shouldn’t be wasting time,” Killian nods. His hand lifts to run through his hair before it comes back down, fingers lingering at his lips. “No matter how enjoyable a way to spend the time it is.”

 

“Yeah, uh, we just need to focus,” Emma nods. She has to hold herself back from rushing him again, replacing the fingers brushing lightly over his lips with her tongue. “But, later.”

 

“Later?” Killian asks, looking hopeful. Emma can’t fight the smile that overtakes her features at the sight. She nods.

 

“Yeah, later,” she assures him. “I’m gonna grab my jacket and then we should head downstairs, see if we can find anything to go off of about Brighid. You should probably…”

 

She waves her hand towards his still exposed chest. Killian looks down, surprised, before nodding. He starts buttoning his shirt and Emma heads back to her bedroom to catch her breath. She pulls her jacket on and fixes her hair so it looks less like Killian’s hand had just been buried in it. In an echo of Killian’s gesture, Emma dances her fingertips lightly over her own lips and lets out a harsh breath.

 

-/-

 

They head down to the business office to find Red and Snow. Cinderella is sitting across from Snow at her desk and Emma realizes they’re discussing funeral preparations as she gets closer. She’ll have to talk to Merlin about doing something for Nimue, as well, the next time she sees him. Red notices them before Snow or Ella and Emma waves her over.

 

“Hey, what’s going?” She asks quietly when she joins Emma and Killian.

 

“Can you do me a favor?” Emma asks. Red nods easily. “You remember how you got the word out when we were looking for Roland? Can you do that again, but this time asking around for people who knew Brighid?”

 

“Sure,” Red agrees. “I’ll give the usual busybodies a call. Why should I say we’re looking for them?”

 

“Just tell them we’re trying to figure out if she was in town recently,” Emma suggests. “Keep it vague and simple. I don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic.”

 

“Consider it done, Sheriff,” Red grins. She turns to head back towards Snow’s desk, passing it up instead of stopping. Emma watches her pull her phone out and start to dial.

 

“The Big Bad Wolf, huh?” Killian comments quietly, leaning towards Emma. Emma smirks at him and shrugs.

 

“Not everyone’s what they seem, huh, Hook?” She teases, bumping her shoulder against his. Killian grins and opens the door to the business office, letting Emma step out first.

 

They head down the hall to her office. Emma waves Killian through the door first this time with a playful smirk. He shakes his head at her and passes by, taking his seat in the visitor’s chair. He reaches out for her as she passes by him, dragging the tips of his fingers over the soft skin of her wrist. Emma shoots him a look. Killian smirks.

 

“Gods,” Emma sighs, dropping into her office chair. She leans back and rests her hands on her stomach. “I am so tired of waiting around for something to happen. There has to be something we could be doing to get ahead of whoever this is.”

 

Suddenly, Nimue’s phone begins vibrating against the fake wood of Emma’s desk, trilling out a tune. Emma starts in her chair and Killian looks back and forth between her and the phone.

 

“Alright, that’s spooky,” he comments, pointing at the device. Emma gives him a wide eyed look before grabbing for it.

 

“It’s just an alarm,” she sighs. The alarm has a label reminding Nimue to pick up more of a particular fertilizer. The screen is lit up with texts and missed calls from Merlin that came while the phone was dead. Emma frowns down at the screen, her chest tightening. She swipes her finger over the lock icon and the phone lights up on the home screen.

 

“What are you doing, Swan?” Killian asks, leaning towards the desk as if it’ll help him see the phone. Emma pulls up Nimue’s texts and scrolls through the list. She’s careful not to tap on the conversation with Merlin. A man’s desperate texts to his missing wife aren’t something she feels comfortable seeing.

 

“If someone lured Nimue out, maybe they called or texted her,” she explains. There are no unknown numbers in her text messages and none of the most recent texts seem alarming or threatening. Emma switches tactics to check the recent calls. She recognizes some of the names but, again, there aren’t any unknown numbers.

 

“A bust,” she sighs, tossing the phone onto the desk less gently than she maybe should have. Killian frowns and reaches for the phone. He taps at a couple things but Emma doesn’t know what he expects to find.

 

“Emma, look at this,” he says, holding the phone up for her. A banner flashes that the phone has no more storage. Emma reaches for the phone, raising an eyebrow at Killian. Maybe Nimue took a lot of selfies or photos of her plants. She’s missing the point. “She only has about a hundred photographs and minimal apps. What’s taking up so much storage on the device?”

 

Emma hums in response, pulling up the information on the phone. There’s a section that details how much memory each app is using. The top app is the sound recorder, taking up more than half of the storage on the phone.

 

“That’s weird,” Emma comments. She locates the app and pulls it up. “What do you think she recorded?”

 

Killian stands to round the desk and join her. He looks down at the phone over her shoulder. There’s only one recording and it lasts four hours. Emma gasps when she spots the timestamp. Killian seems to have noticed as well.

 

“You don’t think she…?” He asks, waving towards the phone. Emma shakes her head unsure, but presses her finger down on the play button.

 

“- _Know what you want me to do_ ,” Nimue’s voice comes crackling through the speakers. It’s muffled and Emma imagines the phone must have still been in her pocket. Nimue must have sensed the danger and starting the recording. Emma wonders why she didn’t just get out of the situation. There’s a shuffling sound, like the phone rubbing against the fabric of her pocket.

 

“ _I know you have the ability_ ,” a high-pitched voice cackles. It’s not a pleasant sound, even muffled through the phone’s speakers. Killian’s grip tightens where his hand is wrapped around the edge of Emma’s desk. She shoots him a concerned glance, but his eyes are trained on the phone.

 

“ _I haven’t been able to do it in years_ ,” Nimue insists. “ _Magic is finicky here, you know that._ ”

 

“ _Try, dearie,_ ” the voice bites, taking on a darker tone. Emma represses a shiver. “ _If you value your life_.”

 

The phone goes quiet for a minute. There’s shifting but no voices. Emma wonders what’s going on that she can’t see. Finally, Nimue’s voice comes through again.

 

“ _Okay, okay,_ ” she begins calmingly. “ _I’m trying but you need to guide me. I need to know who I’m looking for._ ”

 

“ _My son_ ,” the voice responds eagerly. “ _He fell through a portal before we came to this awful land. Baelfire, his name is Baelfire._ ”

 

Emma frowns as the phone goes quiet again. There are a few impatient noises from the other party but nothing else for a few minutes. Emma fidgets in her seat, uncomfortable. Killian’s knuckles have gone white, but he continues to stare at the phone.

 

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Nimue gasps. She sounds drained and Emma knows that if she were trying to see the future, it would have taken a lot of energy out of her. Casual magic can be a drain, large energy outputs like those used in prophesizing can completely drain a user. “ _I’m sorry. There’s just nothing. I don’t- I don’t think he’s in this realm._ ”

 

“ _Of course he’s in this realm! You’re just not strong enough to see him_ ,” the voice snaps. It gets louder as if he’s moving closer to Nimue and Emma’s stomach clenches. Nimue screams and Emma reaches out wildly, her hand landing on Killian’s arm. She grips him tightly as she fumbles to turn the recording off. It cuts Nimue’s cries off causing the office to go silent.

 

Emma holds on to Killian’s arm as he grips her desk tightly. Eventually he eases to his knees next to her chair and spins it so she’s facing him. Emma stares at him, her throat has closed up and she thinks she’s gasping for breath but Nimue’s screams are ringing in her ear and she can’t hear anything else. Killian says something softly to her, but Emma can’t make it out.

 

She lets Killian pull her out of her chair and into his arms. She buries her face in his shoulder and clutches the lapels of his jacket as she tries to pull air into her lungs. He wraps his arm around her, hand landing gently in the middle of her back and rubbing calming circles. Emma can feel tears on her cheeks, feels them land on the leather of Killian’s jacket. Eventually, her heart rate calms down and she can breathe again. Emma presses her face into Killian’s neck as his grip tightens around her fractionally. After another moment, she pulls back. Killian loosens his hold, his hand coming up to brush the tears from her cheeks.

 

“Alright now, love?” He asks softly. Emma isn’t sure she’ll ever really be alright again but, yeah, good enough she supposes. She takes another slow breath and nods. Killian helps her back to her chair.

 

“So, am I right in assuming who that voice was?” Emma asks. Killian’s expression turns stormy as he nods.

 

“Aye,” he answers. “Rumplestiltskin.”

 

-/-

 

“We know who killed Nimue,” Emma says, bursting into the business office. Snow jumps at the announcement before apologetically shuffling the person across from her back out into the hall. Emma cringes in apology. “Probably should have checked the room, huh?”

 

“It’s fine,” Snow assures her. “What did you find out?”

 

Emma had left Killian in her office, going through the files and trying to find anything on Rumplestiltskin or his son, Baelfire. She wanted to tell her mother, though. There might be something in the business office that could help them. Emma had been helping in the sheriff’s office basically since the beginning of Storybrooke. She doubts there’s going to be anything in the files that she wouldn’t remember, but she has to be thorough.

 

“Nimue had a recording on her phone,” Emma explains. “She started it when she got cornered in the alley. It recorded everything.”

 

“Everything?” Snow asks warily. Emma nods, trying not to let her previous reaction show on her face. Snow reaches for her anyway, hands landing on Emma’s biceps as she squeezes gently. “Oh, gods, Emma. You listened to that? Are you alright?”

 

“I’ll be better once Rumplestiltskin is rotting in one of those catacombs,” Emma answers. Snow seems startled by the vehemence in her voice but nods in agreement. “We need to find a way to take him down. I can’t go after him by myself, I know that.”

 

“Maybe there’s something in the book,” Snow suggest. She leads Emma over to where the storybook sits on its pedestal and flips it open. She flips through it a few times, frowning. Eventually she stops at a certain spot and runs her fingers over the binding. “This is odd. The pages with Rumplestiltskin’s story are missing.”

 

“Of course they are,” Emma huffs. She should have expected it. Rumplestiltskin has been a malevolent presence over Storybrooke but people rarely saw him. He mostly kept to himself, owned a pawn shop on the edge of town but had employees to run it. The only people who met with him face to face were those who made deals with him. He wouldn’t want them to get their hands on anything that could show a potential weakness.

 

“What did Rumplestiltskin want from Nimue?” Snow asks quietly. Emma sighs. She’s not really emotionally prepared to relive the recording, but her mother deserves details. They’re both risking a lot by pursuing Rumplestiltskin, Snow deserves to know why.

 

“He wanted her to use her powers to find his son,” Emma explains. “Nimue couldn’t give him any answers, though, and he killed her. It’s probably the same thing that happened to Trish and Brighid.”

 

Her mother’s face turns contemplative, her eyes looking past Emma as she absorbs the information.

 

“What about his son?” She asks eventually, startling Emma after her prolonged silence. “Did he mention his name?”

 

“Uh, yeah, Baelfire,” Emma nods. Snow turns back to the book, flipping through the pages back towards the front. Emma watches on in confusion. “He didn’t come with Rumplestiltskin to Storybrooke, though. I don’t think he’ll be in the book, Brighid wasn’t even in it.”

 

“Brighid wasn’t in it because she didn’t want to be,” Snow replies, eyes still skimming pages as she flips through them. There are beautiful illustrations along some of them and Emma recognizes some of the faces within them. “Brighid was an unnamed seer, a prophet, in other people’s stories. That’s how she survived for so long. As long as Mundies continued to believe in psychics and prophets, they believed in Brighid.”

 

“Okay,” Emma says slowly. “But, what about Baelfire? Wouldn’t his story have just been a part of Rumplestiltskin’s?”

 

“Not necessarily,” her mother shrugs. She flips between two pages, looking them both over, before continuing to flip through the book. “If his story branched off from his father’s, he’d have had his own entry.”

 

She gives a shout of triumph and stops flipping through the pages. Emma tries to peer over her shoulder as Snow skims the page she’s landed on. Baelfire’s name is written in script at the top of the page. It’s accompanied by three parallel illustrations on the opposite page.

 

“Baelfire, after his mother left and his father gave himself over to dark magic, found a way of having a fresh start. He’d found a way to open a portal to a land without magic and begged his father to give up his powers for the fresh start,” Snow summarizes, gasping at the next part. “Rumplestiltskin let him fall through alone. Baelfire went on to live in this world, aging incrementally and never able to stay in one place for long for fear of being noticed. Can you imagine?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, feeling for the boy in the book. She’d been much older when she’d made the decision to come to this world alone. Baelfire had to do it all with the burn of abandonment. “I can, actually.”

 

Snow frowns and reaches for Emma’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Emma smiles at her gratefully before returning her attention to the book. The story ended with young Baelfire adjusting to the Mundy world but it doesn’t chronicle what he’s been doing since coming here. The book doesn’t actually give them any helpful information for finding Rumplestiltskin’s son. Emma frowns, feeling disheartened, and glances at the illustrations on the next page. The top shows Baelfire as a happy, young child with his mother. The middle is him at the age when he’d found the portal and fallen through. The bottom illustration is him as a man in the Mundy world.

 

Emma stops breathing for a moment. A man she knew once upon a time. Snow senses the change in mood and squeezes her arm gently.

 

“What is it, Emma?” She asks. Emma shakes her head, turning back to her mother.

 

“Nothing,” she responds. The less Snow knows is probably the better. Emma doesn’t enjoy lying to her parents, but she figures she’s allowed her secrets. She’s kept them for long enough at this point. They have bigger problems to focus on. Emma continues determinedly, “We need to come up with a plan to catch Rumplestiltskin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to see you next week! <3


	8. make ash and leave the dust behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are so near to the end, you guys!! this chapter was a fun one to write, i haven't done a lot of the action stuff so it was interesting to try my hand at it. i hope you enjoy!!

Emma returns to her own office to tell Killian what they’ve learned and bring him back to the business office. Any remaining people waiting for an audience with Snow have been sent home and Emma figures the business office is officially closed for the remainder of the day. She does feel bad, to an extent. These people line up outside Snow’s door for hours just to hear her say she can’t help them, even if she wants to. They’ve been closing the office a lot these past couple days.

 

Emma reassures herself that once they’ve caught Rumplestiltskin and stopped these crimes, Snow can go back to letting people shout at her day in and day out.

 

When they reach the office, Snow has already gathered David and Red and relayed the information from the book. It still feels like nothing to go on, but Emma isn’t sitting back on her ass anymore while Rumplestiltskin terrorizes the town. They have enough proof to hold a formal hearing with members of the community, all that’s left is finding a way to bring him in. Between his power and his lackies, Rumplestiltskin is practically untouchable.

 

“This is dangerous,” Emma reminds them, looking around the group gathered. “I’m not talking about losing our jobs or ending up in exile. Rumplestiltskin is a killer and I doubt he’d show restraint towards any of us.”

 

“We’re in this with you, Emma,” Snow assures her. Red nods determinedly at her side and David places his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “This isn’t about us, this is about Storybrooke.”

 

Emma nods at them, eyes traveling to Killian. His gaze is sharp and unyielding where it meets hers. She doesn’t need his answer. This is a fight that’s been a century in the making for him, she knows he won’t leave any of them in the clutch.

 

“Okay,” Emma breathes, nodding to herself. The reassurance from her family helps. “First things first, Rumplestiltskin isn’t just taking leisurely strolls about town. How do we find him?”

 

“I think I have an idea about that,” Snow pipes up. She crosses the room to a large object on the wall, covered by a white sheet. She pulls it off to reveal a mirror. Emma frowns as the mirror swirls a blue smoke and a face appears.

 

“What can I do to serve my Queen?” He starts grandly before taking stock of the people in front of him and frowning. “Oh, Snow, it’s you. What do you want?”

 

Snow sighs and explains, “Regina’s mirror. He doesn’t like me.”

 

“Can he show us Rumplestiltskin?” Emma asks. The man in the mirror clears his throat obnoxiously.

 

“ _He_ can hear you just fine, Miss Swan,” he bites. “Perhaps if you try wording your query correctly.”

 

“He wants you to rhyme,” Snow translates. Emma gives her a look. _Seriously_? Her mother shrugs in response. “I didn’t make the rules.”

 

“Fine,” Emma huffs, taking a deep breath. She contemplates the mirror for a moment before giving it a try. She continues haltingly, “Mirror, mirror, if you’re _willing_ , she me where Rumplestiltskin’s _dwelling_.”

 

“Willing and dwelling don’t rhyme,” Snow corrects, but the mirror swirls to life anyway. It creates a picture of a grand room, lots of gold accents and burgundy. Emma frowns as she spots Rumplestiltskin. He sits behind a large desk with his fingers steepled under his chin. He gives orders to someone just out of view. Maleficent’s voice is hazy but identifiable as she responds with agreement and leaves the room, the sound of a door closing as their indication. Emma groans in frustration.

 

“Okay, great, but _where_ is that?” She asks. The face in the mirror reappears, unaffected by Emma’s tone.

 

“I can only show you what can be seen,” he explains. Not sounding apologetic in the least, he adds, “Sorry.”

 

Emma runs a hand through her hair in annoyance and turns away from the mirror. It could take them days to track down Rumplestiltskin and, at the rate he’s killing, how many Story lives will it cost? They could trail his contacts, Maleficent, Zelena, his pawn shop workers. It’s a long shot that they’ll actually lead them to Rumplestiltskin. Cinderella is another option. If she owes him money, he might come out of the shadows to collect. Emma doesn’t feel comfortable even considering risking the girl’s life like that.

 

“What if we take shifts watching him through the mirror?” Her father suggest from behind her. Emma turns back to face him where he addresses the rest of the group. “One of us will always have eyes on him in case there’s anything that gives away his location.”

 

“It’s the best option we’ve got,” Snow agrees. “I can take first watch, with any luck it’ll only take a few hours to find _something_.”

 

“I’ll stay with you.” Red offers. Snow offers her a grateful smile.

 

Emma appreciates the optimism but it’s been the week from Hades himself and she’s not feeling the hope. There are still other matters they need to discuss. _If_ they can even find Rumplestiltskin, how do they intend to capture him?

 

“Alright, let’s say this works,” Emma starts. “We find him. What’s the plan after that? He’s still more powerful than any of us, even in this world. How do we capture him?”

 

“I may have a way,” Killian offers. Emma looks to him in surprise. “Ursula, the Sea Witch, she obtained squid ink harvested from the bottomless sea back in the Enchanted Forest. It’ll immobolize Rumplestiltskin for long enough to apply a more permanent solution.”

 

“What makes you think she’ll still have it?” Red asks. Killian offers them all a self-depreciating smile.

 

“She was always good at holding a grudge,” he offers cryptically. Emma nods instead of challenging him on it. There’s time to talk about it once they have the ink. Right now, she has other things to deal with.

 

“While Killian goes to Glowerhaven, I’m gonna go see Merlin,” she announces. “I might not match Rumplestiltskin’s power alone, but maybe between the two of us we can overpower him.”

 

They all agree to their set tasks and Emma and Killian break away from the group, leaving Snow, David, and Red with the mirror. Emma stops Killian outside the front gate, catching his wrist before he can head down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of her.

 

“Swan?” He questions. Emma slips her hand down into his, squeezing it.

 

“I don’t know what happened with you and Ursula,” she says gently. “And you can tell me about it later. Just, for now, be careful, okay?”

 

Killian nods, brushing his lips over her cheek softly. Emma lets go of his hand and he bids her good luck before heading down the sidewalk. Emma turns in the direction of Oxleigh Arrangements and resolves not to worry about Killian. There’ll be plenty of time for talking after all of this.

 

-/-

 

The bell above the door to the flower shop tinkles as Emma enters. Her senses are immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh dirt and flowers. The merchandise is lined in rows of gorgeous colors and types. Emma walks down one of the rows towards the front desk.

 

“Merlin?” She calls out. “Are you here? It’s Emma.”

 

She bypasses the counter and heads into the back. The small shop spans into a large greenhouse, enchanted to fit within the small space. Emma gasps at the sight, budding flowers covering the large space. It’s been years since she’d been into the shop and the sight takes her breath away for a moment.

 

She spots Merlin towards the back and heads towards him. He’s bent over a patch of growing flowers. It isn’t until Emma gets within a few feet that she realizes they’re Middlemists. Her heart clenches.

 

“Merlin,” she calls out again, softer this time. Merlin straightens, his hand coming up to wipe at his face. Emma hesitates, giving him time to clean himself up. “I’m sorry, I called from up front, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

 

“No, no, it’s quite alright, Emma,” he assures her, turning towards her. His eyes are bloodshot and Emma wants to leave him to his quiet moment of grief. It’s a luxury she hasn’t really allowed herself yet, either. They can all grieve when this is over. “What’s going on?”

 

“I need your help,” Emma says, tone turning serious at the topic change. Merlin nods immediately and Emma feels grateful to have such reliable friends. She needs him to know what he’s getting into, though, the same way she’d told the group in the business office. “We’re going after Rumplestiltskin.”

 

Merlin blinks at her.

 

“Perhaps you should start from the beginning,” he says. Merlin leads her back through the greenhouse and to the front of the shop while Emma explains what they’d found. She leaves out as many gory details as she can, out of respect for her friend.

 

Behind the counter, before where the store opens up into a magical greenhouse, there’s a room that branches off to the side. It’s small, containing a folding table, two chairs, and an assortment of filing cabinets. There’s no magic in it, just a normal break room. Merlin guides her into one of the chairs while he takes the other.

 

“Rumplestiltskin,” he repeats, shakily. Emma can see the anger he’s trying to conceal in his eyes, can feel it in the energy that surrounds him. He’s practically buzzing. Emma hopes he’ll be able to harness some of that and take a break from his pacifist ways to help her defeat Rumplestiltskin. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Dark magic only does one thing; consume. The minute he allowed it into his heart, he could do nothing else but seek more.”

 

“So, you’ll help?” Emma asks.

 

“In any way I can,” Merlin nods with conviction. Emma grasps his hand gratefully and he squeezes hers back. He starts again, sorrowfully, “Nimue was my true love. We’d spent centuries together. I suppose now I’ll have to find a way to survive centuries without her.”

 

“I know it feels like it right now,” Emma says softly. “But you won’t be alone.”

 

Merlin look up at her. The tears have returned to his eyes and Emma knows he’s fighting them. One trickles down his cheek as he offers her a sad smile. He squeezes her hand again, covering it with both of his now.

 

“I know that,” he assures her. He releases her hand and wipes the moisture from his eyes once more as his expression turns serious. “I assume you have a plan for taking on Rumplestiltskin, then?”

 

“I have a half of an idea,” Emma admits. “Right now we’re focusing on figuring out where he’s hiding and how to trap him once we _do_ defeat him. Killian is working on getting squid ink right now.”

 

“That will do the trick,” Merlin nods. “We have to be careful, though. Squid ink in the wrong hands can be disastrous. Not something Killian should be walking around with in his pocket.”

 

Emma nods. They’d agreed to meet back at the business office once they’ve completed their respective tasks. She’s sure they’ll be able to keep it hidden there until they could use it. Merlin agrees to meet them at the business office in a few hours as well and Emma heads out of the flower shop.

 

Killian beats her back to the business office and Emma is glad he seems to have survived his confrontation with Ursula in one piece. Emma remembers the way the woman had spoken to Maleficent and figures there’s no loyalty there for Rumplestiltskin. However much Ursula may dislike Killian, Emma imagines she’d like to see Rumplestiltskin taken down more.

 

Snow finds a safe place for the bottle of squid ink Killian has acquired. They’ve seen nothing in the mirror except for Rumplestiltskin moving about his office, barking out a few more instructions at visitors. Emma tugs Killian out of the business office for one last errand.

 

“Where are we headed, love?” He asks as Emma leads him through the lobby.

 

“To see an old enemy,” she sighs.

 

-/-

 

It turns out that finding The Cheshire Cat isn’t as hard as Emma once thought it to be. She simply has to ask Jefferson where to find his feline for hire. Turns out the mangy pain in her ass has a waterfront office building dedicated to his services. Sometimes, Emma genuinely can’t believe this town.

 

“Pig and Pepper Private Investigations,” Emma reads aloud from the dingy sign. It hangs haphazardly from the building door, looking as if it’s seen more battle than it’s owner has. “Cute.”

 

“Are we sure about this, love?” Killian asks. He hasn’t really questioned her plan until now, but Emma figures they have a real reason to be wary of Cheshire. Emma doesn’t usually put her faith in people that can be bought. She’s hoping Cheshire will be willing to help them after she’d broken his paw.

 

“The enemy of my enemy, right?” Emma shrugs. Killian nods, seeming to consider the point. It’s not an ideal situation, but Emma thinks it’s their best bet. If Killian is uncomfortable with it, though, she may have to scrap it. “You said you’ve dealt with him a few times before all this started. Do you think he’d harbor any loyalties for Rumplestiltskin?”

 

“I met him once or twice during my dealings in Wonderland,” Killian explains. “He never was one for those who misused their power to impose their will upon others. Used to make a nasty mess of the Queen’s croquet matches. If you’re asking if I think he’s in Rumplestiltskin’s pocket, I’d wager it unlikely.”

 

“Okay, well, that’s good,” Emma nods. “But the question is; Do you think he’ll help us?”

 

“For the right price, I’ll help just about anyone,” the cat in question says, appearing in front of them. He leans against the wall of the building, examining his nails. Emma startles at the sudden entrance.

 

“Jesus,” she hisses. “Were you there the whole time?”

 

“I was inside,” he chuckles. He raises a hand to tap lightly underneath his ear. “Cat’s hearing, darling.”

 

“You know our proposal, then,” Killian cuts in. Chesh gives him a bored look and returns his attention to his nails. Emma notices his right hand is no longer bandages. It bodes well for them, she thinks, Chesh might be more forgiving now that the injury has abated. “Will you help us?”

 

“You want to take on Rumplestiltskin?” Chesh asks. Emma nods, patience wearing thin with the cat’s smug attitude. “Well, since it is a suicide mission, I’m afraid it’s really going to cost you.”

 

“And here I was hoping you might help us out of the goodness of your heart,” Emma bites. Cheshire turns a grin at her. It’s sharp at the edges and unfriendly.

 

“If it’s loyalty you want,” he shrugs. “Find yourself a dog.”

 

Emma glares at him, but Killian steps forward. He puts a hand on Emma’s arm as he steps past her. Chesh watches his movements, pushing himself off of the wall to stand at his full height. Emma figures that testosterone doesn’t really change between species.

 

“I’ll make sure you get your payment, in _gold_ ,” Killian promises him. Cheshire’s eyes glow a little brighter. “ _After_ we defeat Rumplestiltskin.”

 

The violet of his eyes fades a little as Chesh contemplates their proposal. He tilts his head and considers them. The stare unnerves Emma but she holds her stance, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Alright,” he agrees finally. Emma feels some of the tension go out of her. Chesh might be an unreliable ally, but he’s a formidable opponent. “I accept your offer, but don’t think this makes us friends. Do you have any idea how unpleasant a broken paw is?”

 

He begins to disappear, slowly this time, starting at the tips of his boots. Emma doesn’t notice it until his knees disappear and he appears to be floating. It travels upwards to his torso.

 

“Meet us at the business office in an hour,” Emma says, annoyed at the obvious dismissal. Chesh gives her one more look before disappearing entirely. It’s not the best start to a partnership, but Emma is desperate.

 

“What do you know?” Killian comments dryly. “Unsettling as a cat _and_ a man.”

 

“How is it that you have some disposable amount of gold, exactly?” Emma asks, ignoring Killian’s comment. He’d just promised an indeterminate sum of gold to a greedy cat with a grudge towards them. He should be at least a bit worried.

 

“I’m a pirate, Swan,” he answers easily, like that should explain everything. “Surely you don’t think I’d allow myself to be exiled from my realm without making sure I’d be well taken care of in a new, uncharted land.”

 

Emma huffs out a breath as Killian turns his smirk on her. She shakes her head at him before turning to head away from the office building. Emma’s phone begins trilling in her pocket and she pulls it out.

 

“Mom, hey,” she answers. “What is it?”

 

“Emma, you two need to get back here,” Snow responds in a rush. “We found him.”

 

-/-

 

Emma doesn’t waste any time dialing Merlin to ask him to meet them at the business office as soon as he can. If they have even the hint of a chance at cornering Rumplestiltskin, they can’t screw around. He’s a slippery bastard and Emma is sure the moment he gets a whiff they’re onto him, he’ll move or go into hiding.

 

“It’s only been a few hours,” Emma points out once they’re back in the office. Merlin met them in the lobby but Emma had decided not to rush Cheshire. She’ll include him when they have a working plan. “How did you find him so quickly? Did he leave the office?”

 

“Well, no,” Snow explains, shaking her head. “He mostly just sits at the desk, moves around sometimes. He really likes doling out tasks to his evil henchmen.”

 

Emma scrunches up her nose at the phrasing. She’d have probably used it herself, sarcastically, but Snow says it like it’s their actual job titles. Who knows, though? Maybe Rumplestiltskin isn’t as smart as Emma’s been giving him credit for.

 

“It’s hard to tell how many of them there are, too,” David complains. “The mirror only shows who you ask about. For all we know, he could have half the town under employment.”

 

“I doubt it,” Emma admits, shaking her head. “He’s probably only got a few trusted people who know how to get to him. They’d do their dealings with the lower lackeys and so on. That’d be the smart way to do it, anyway.”

 

“Not thinking of switching sides on us are you, Swan?” Killian murmurs from next to her. Emma smirks at him and winks. Killian chuckles and Emma returns her attention to her parents.

 

“So, where is he?” She asks, getting to the point of why they’d brought her here to begin with. Merlin is standing on her other side and she can feel the anxious energy radiating off of him. They need to focus on the task at hand before any of them lose their nerve.

 

“Well, like Snow said, he mostly just sits in his office,” Red explains. “So, I started focusing less on Rumplestiltskin and more on what was going on around him. A sound or sight that might give an indication.”

 

“Smart,” Emma comments with a grin. Red returns it before pressing on.

 

“There was a train whistle in the background. The train passed by so close I could hear it rumbling over the tracks,” she explains. “Even with heightened hearing that would mean the office would have to be really close to the tracks.”

 

“Okay,” Emma says, nodding slowly. “But does that really narrow it down?”

 

“The south tracks,” Snow continues for Red, nodding determinedly. “There are a cache of warehouses down there. Rumplestiltskin could have rented one and set up shop.”

 

Emma heaves a sigh, “Great. So he’s a cliche.”

 

“What’s our plan, then?” Killian asks. Emma can tell he’s growing agitated, as well. They’ve never been this close and she thinks everyone is just ready to get this over with. They still need to be smart, though. Villainous cliche or not, Emma doesn’t think she’s been underestimating how cunning Rumplestiltskin is. They’ll need to be clever, attack when he’s alone.

 

“Did you recognize any of the voices of people who visited him?” She asks. Snow nods ruefully.

 

“I definitely heard Zelena,” she says. “Hers is a distinct pitch of dark amusement and vengefulness.”

 

Emma chuckles at the picture and nods. She’d assumed as much. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have sent just anyone out to find his victims. Just the same as he wouldn’t have sent out just any underling to threaten her at Glowerhaven.

 

“Maleficent is definitely working for him,” Emma tells them. “She came to see me at Glowerhaven a few days ago. Not so nicely told me to stop looking into this.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” David asks, frowning. “Maleficent can hold a mean grudge. Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma assures him. “Ursula actually stepped in before Maleficent could do any real damage. I’m pretty sure we can strike her off the list of Rumplestiltskin’s possible associates.”

 

“Aye,” Killian agrees, nodding. “Ursula doesn’t ally herself with old tyrants.”

 

“What are you thinking, Emma?” Merlin asks. He’s been mostly silent since he’d arrived after exchanging pleasantries with her parents. Merlin has lived longer than any of them, his powers given to him as a blessing. He’s almost as clever as he is powerful. Emma is grateful to have him on their side.

 

“We have to make sure he’s alone when we go after him,” she announces to the group. “We can’t have Maleficent or Zelena getting in the way and giving him time to disappear. I know all of our nerves are fried and we’re tired of waiting, but I think we need to wait until Maleficent and Zelena come back and he sends them out again. We need to be certain they’re out of the way.”

 

No one immediately agrees with the plan, but there are no shouts of disagreement, either. Emma thinks they all know it’s the best decision, even if it’s shit. All of the other options are just slightly more shit.

 

“Alright,” Snow speaks up eventually, agreeing for all of them. “So, once they’re definitely gone, what’s the plan?”

 

“I’ll get us all to the warehouses. From there it’s a crapshoot on how to find his but it’s all we’ve got,” Emma shrugs. Again, shitty but slightly less shitty. Emma thinks maybe she’ll make that her official leadership tagline; shit but not as shit as it could be. “Then, we need to incapacitate him long enough to use the squid ink.”

 

“Once we get him back here,” Merlin suggests, looking at Emma. “You and I can set to work on enchanting one of the catacombs with something strong enough to hold him.”

 

“It’ll have to be enough to hold him until I can get a formal hearing together,” Snow reminds them. Emma nods. Between the two of them, she thinks she and Merlin can do it. They’ll have to talk about how much squid ink it’ll actually take to temporarily remove his power. Emma doesn’t want to use all of it in one go if they can avoid it.

 

“Someone should stay here and watch the mirror,” she adds. “Make sure he doesn’t catch our scent before we can even get there.”

 

“I’ll stay,” Snow volunteers. Emma raises an eyebrow at her mother, surprised at the suggestion. Snow’s never been one to run from a fight and Emma’s never met anyone who doesn’t know of her mother’s prowess with a bow. Snow explains, “It’s not ideal for me, but if I stay here I can start on finding Stories for a hearing. The sooner we get it done, the better.”

 

Emma nods in agreement. It’s not a whole lot of a plan but it’ll have to work. If it doesn’t, well, Chesh hadn’t called it a suicide mission for nothing. Emma’s stomach rolls at the thought. Red and Snow return to their watch over the mirror while David heads upstairs to get ready. Emma doesn’t know exactly what that means, but with her father it probably involves swords. Merlin asks Snow to direct him towards any magic books and pulls a volume from a shelf to read.

 

Emma strays away from the group and tries to remind herself that her friends _want_ to help, that she can’t actually do this on her own. She’s starting to wonder if they’re all just walking into their deaths with this plan. Her chest is tight and she still feels, vividly, the loss of Nimue. She’s not sure she’s ready or able to lose anyone else.

 

“Swan,” Killian say quietly, startling her out of her reverie with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Emma turns to face him and he studies her face. “It’s going to work. Your plan, I mean, we’re going to catch him.”

 

“What makes you so sure?” Emma sighs. She doesn’t need empty reassurances, really. Merlin is the only one here with prophesying in his repertoire and it doesn’t really work like this. It’s what she’s asking from Killian, though. She asking him to tell her it’s all going to be okay. Emma holds her breath as she waits for his response.

 

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he responds, conviction in his voice. Emma stares at him for a moment, speechless at his faith in her. Red and Snow are focused on the mirror and Merlin is pouring over a book. There’s no one paying attention to them in their little corner of the world right now.

 

So, Emma kisses him. It’s soft and short, but it means something. She kisses him because he genuinely believes she’s made the best decision possible. Because it may be the last time and she never got that chance with Graham. Because he kind of makes her want to believe in herself, too.

 

Mostly, she kisses him because no one has ever made her feel quite like Killian Jones.

 

“That’s not a goodbye kiss,” she murmurs when they separate. Her forehead is pressed to his and Killian’s fingers comb through the ends of her hair. “I don’t do goodbye kisses, alright?”

 

“No need for one, love,” he reminds her, breath ghosting over her skin. Emma closes her eyes for a minute, lets herself exist solely in this moment. She’ll have to return to everything else in a moment but, right now, she’s going to let herself believe everything will be fine.

 

“I should try and call Cheshire,” Emma sighs, pulling away from him. Killian nods, twisting her hair around his digits before releasing it. Emma smiles at the gesture. “We don’t have time to wait for him to get here once Rumplestiltskin is alone.”

 

“Aye,” he agrees. His voice turns hard and Emma recognizes that their moment is over. They have to focus on the problems at hand now. “I need to ready the ink for use, anyway.”

 

-/-

 

“He’s alone!” Snow calls across the room after about an hour and a half. Emma leaves Merlin at Snow’s desk and crosses to where her mother stands in front of the mirror. Cheshire had shown up about forty minutes ago and has been keeping his place across the room from wherever Red was at all times. Now, he inches his way towards the forming group at the mirror.

 

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, looking into the mirror where Rumplestiltskin lounges behind his desk.

 

“Positive,” Red nods, glancing over at Emma. “Zelena left about fifteen minutes ago and now Maleficent just came back and left again. He seemed to be dismissing them for the night.”

 

“Perfect,” Emma comments. Red crosses behind Snow to join their group. Cheshire eyes her warily but doesn’t move away. David had returned from the apartment with two swords, one for himself and one for Killian. Emma meets Merlin’s eye. “You ready to do this?”

 

Merlin nods and Emma looks back to her mother. Snow promises to call if he moves while they’re searching the warehouses. She wishes them good luck and Emma attempts what she hopes is an encouraging smile. Merlin and Emma disappear the group in a cloud of smoke. They land in the middle of the cache of warehouses.

 

“Okay,” Emma starts quietly. “Split up. Dad, take Chesh and check south. Merlin and Killian, go north west. Red and I will go north east. Do _not_ encounter him by yourself. If you find something, call me. We do this as a group, got it?”

 

Everyone nods their agreement and splits into pairs. Emma and Red head upwards and to the right, walking along the lines of the warehouses. Everything is quiet around them except for the wind making the metal walls around them creak. It’s where the plan falls a bit for Emma. Her idea or not, just hoping they manage to stumble onto Rumplestiltskin is asking a lot.

 

She’s turning the corner between two warehouses when her phone starts to vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out and catches the flash of her mother’s face on the screen before she feels the distinct pull of magic around her. Emma looks back at Red in alarm but they both disappear before she has a chance to do anything.

 

The reappear in a large open area between warehouses. Rumplestiltskin stands in front of them. She realizes the appearance she’d seen in the mirror - of a normal, older man - had been a glamour. Now, glamour released, his skin shimmers in the moonlight, like a million bits of diamond embedded in his flesh. _Or scales_ , she thinks. Chesh and David appear just as suddenly next to Emma and Red. Rumplestiltskin grins at them, his hands raised in the air on opposite sides of him, long, pointed nails extend from the tips of his fingers.

 

“Ah, Miss Swan,” he laughs, loud and high. There’s no question it’s the same voice from Nimue’s recording. “I was wondering when you’d join us.”

 

It takes Emma a minute to figure out why he’s standing the way he is. Off to either side of the open area, feet away from him, Killian and Merlin clutch at their throats. Emma makes eye contact with Merlin and he stops reaching for his throat. Their combined attack throws Rumplestiltskin off balance enough to force him to release his hold. Merlin and Killian fall to the cement, gasping. Rumplestiltskin’s delight flashes to rage, only for a moment, but Emma catches it.

 

“Quite the ragtag bunch you have here, Sheriff,” he points out, giggling and clapping his hands together like they’re here for his amusement. “All of this just for a visit? You really should have called first.”

 

“I would have, but your number is unlisted,” Emma quips. She puts her palms up in a defensive stance and forces a magic blast towards him. “You should really get that fixed.”

 

Rumplestiltskin is barely affected by the attack. Emma registers a growl from her side as Red sheds her leather jacket, hunching towards the ground. She takes a leap towards Rumplestiltskin, transforming into wolf form in mid-air. Cheshire takes her cue to Emma’s right and charges as well, changing form in a blur of purple smoke.

 

He seems at least surprised by the affront from both sides. He swipes his hands outwards sending the two backwards. Red lands on all fours, claws skidding against the concrete as she bares her fangs at him. Cheshire rolls once but lands in pouncing position ready to go again. Killian doesn’t give him a chance, charging at Rumplestiltskin from behind with his sword. Rumplestiltskin turns easily, freezing Killian in place with his sword poised to strike.

 

“It’s been a long time,” Killian comments, rage shaking his voice. Rumplestiltskin cackles, but there’s something hard and vicious in it. Any trace of amusement is gone as his gaze fixates on Killian.

 

“Not long enough, Captain,” he responds before sending Killian backwards into one of the warehouse walls. He slumps to the ground, unconscious. Merlin is back on his feet now, sending a blast at Rumplestiltskin that Emma immediately follows with one of her own. The double attack knocks Rumplestiltskin back, but he stays on his feet.

 

Red snaps her jaws and charges again, Chesh following on her tail and using her as a distraction. He bounds over Red at the last moment, managing to knock Rumplestiltskin back onto the cement. The cat’s large paws hold him down but Rumple quickly gets the upperhand, sending Cheshire into the corner of a warehouse. The cat lets out a yowl of pain and slumps to the ground.

 

Red circles Rumplestiltskin as David approaches from behind, ready to strike with his sword. Distracted by the wolf in front of him, Rumplestiltskin doesn’t see the attack coming and David manages to get a swipe in before Rumplestiltskin sidesteps it. The sword slices a tear in the arm of his suit and Rumplestiltskin’s arm bleeds. Letting out an angry yell, he flings both David and Red away. Red lands on top of David and the two roll across the pavement.

 

Emma spares them a quick glance, concerned for her father who’s just been rolled over by a seven-foot-tall wolf, but Rumplestiltskin is suddenly advancing. Merlin joins her at her side and together they send out another burst. Rumplestiltskin waves his hand through the air and the blast avoids him entirely.

 

“Enough of this,” he hisses. Merlin raises his hand to try again but Rumplestiltskin beats him to the punch. Merlin stops moving and Emma suddenly feels a hot, prickling feeling burning over her skin. She tries to move but every muscle in her body is frozen in place.

 

“Now, you’ve ruined my best suit,” Rumplestiltskin continues on a sigh. “You came here looking to pick a fight and you lost. You must accept your defeat gracefully, _Princess_ , being that it is the last thing you’ll ever do.”

 

Emma tries to swallow, tries to close her eyes but nothing is moving. She’s not sure she’s even breathing as Rumplestiltskin continues to advance towards her. He waves his hands animatedly as he talks.

 

“It really is a shame about those women,” he comments, not sounding the least bit sorry for what he’s done. “But it’s their own fault, really. They should have tried _harder_ to give me what I wanted. If they had only been able to use their powers properly, then, well maybe I’d have let them live.”

 

Emma feels a hot anger burn through her at his words. His open admission to killing those women, women just trying to live their lives in this world. Women who had been ripped away from their homes and were doing their best to find purpose here. He’d torn it all away from them and now he has the audacity to _blame_ them? Emma would rip his throat out herself if she had the ability to move.

 

“Would you like to see?” Rumplestiltskin asks. He’s in front of her now and Emma aches to put space between them, stresses against the magical bonds holding her in place. He raised his hand up in front of his chest and curls it into a claw. The nails grow grotesquely as he does so, turning talon-like. “Would you like to see how I did it?”

 

He reaches forward and Emma realizes suddenly he intends to claw her heart out. He’ll probably kill them all but she wonders if it’s her body Snow will have to see in the catacombs next. Heart ripped out and crushed. Rumplestiltskin is sick enough to make it a game, leave their bodies one by one for Emma’s mother to find. Emma would like to puke all over his shiny shoes, but those muscles aren’t working either.

 

Rumplestiltskin’s hand hovers over Emma’s chest, nails nearly scraping over the leather of her jacket. She feels a burning inside of her now, bubbling and building until, suddenly, he’s not standing in front of her. Rather, Rumplestiltskin is flying across the open space. He lands hard against the front of the warehouse across from Emma.

 

She thinks for a moment that he’s down but his muscles move and he seems to be working his way to his feet. The magic had taken a lot out of Emma, though, and she hunches over. Merlin is no longer frozen in place, either, and seems ready to take over the fight. He readies his hands for Rumplestiltskin’s return to his feet. He’s struggling against the metal wall, easing himself back to his feet, but Killian stops him. His hook slides home in Rumplestiltskin’s chest.

 

“Fucking pirate,” Rumplestiltskin bites, grabbing Killian by the wrist and forcing his hook from his chest. A deep red spot builds where the sharp point of the hook had connected. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

 

Before he can do more than snarl in Killian’s direction, Rumplestiltskin’s hand begins to shake violently and then stops all together. He drops heavily back to the cement, sliding against the warehouse wall until he lay prone on the ground. Killian tilts his hook for Rumplestiltskin to see, the side of it still stained black from the ink.

 

“You’ve heard of squid ink, haven’t you?” Killian asks, a taunting quirk to his brow. Emma can see, though, the rigidity in his stance, the tick in his jaw. The anger that’s simmering beneath the surface.

 

“I’ll kill you,” Rumplestiltskin growls, getting louder. “I’ll kill all of you!”

 

Emma nears them as Killian seems to contemplate the prone man in front of him. He frowns down at him. Emma grabs Killian’s wrist to keep her steady, energy waning. He turns his eyes on her, tension easing slightly from his face. Emma doesn’t know if her presence is actually that calming, or if he’d rather she not see the rage Rumplestiltskin brings out in him.

 

“Not today,” she tells Rumplestiltskin simply. Dropping down to her haunches, she tilts her head at him. Rumplestiltskin sneers at her and Emma raises her fist. It connects with his jaw, his head hitting the pavement and effectively knocking him unconscious.

 

“Told you, Swan,” Killian say jovially. “I’d say that went swimmingly.”

 

Emma lets out a surprised laugh and drops onto her butt on the cement. Killian grins at her, nudging her boot with his own. Emma looks up and shoots him an easy smile.

 

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how could i have a twau au without utilizing the big bad wolf? see you thursday for the final installment! :' )


	9. in the end it'd be me and you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so here it is. The end of the road, as they say. This was really fun to write and I'm extremely glad to have done it all in one go, rather than trying to write it week by week. Thank you to those who've stuck with it, thank you to those who just clicked on the finished project! If you've made it this far, that means the world to me. Thank you! 33

It takes an exhaustive use of enchantments and blood magic, but eventually Emma and Merlin are comfortable leaving Rumplestitlskin alone while the squid ink wears off. Emma is aware she’ll have to explain the bruise forming on his jaw from where her fist had knocked him to the pavement, but she’s having trouble caring at the moment. Things finally feel like they might work out and she’s not about to squander the all too rare moment of quiet to worry about Rumplestiltskin.

 

Killian is waiting for Emma when she gets back to her office. He’s disassembled most of the murder wall, a few stray pictures and notes still clinging to the wall behind her desk. He’s staring down at something on her desk, though, task forgotten. It isn’t until Emma circles her desk to sit behind him that she realizes what it is.

 

Milah’s file is open on the desk. Killian’s hand is propped next to it, holding him over it. There’s a copy of her page in the storybook that Graham must have made all those years ago. An illustration shows a smiling Milah standing at the prow of a ship with the wind blowing her hair from her face.

 

“She’d be really proud of you,” Emma offers, hand hand coming up to rest gently on Killian’s bicep. It seems a bit empty, Emma had barely known Milah, but _she’s_ proud of Killian. From what he’s told her, she doubts Milah would argue the point. He offers her a grateful smile. “You okay?”

 

“Aye,” Killian nods. He flips the file closed again and sets it in a pile along with the others. “Milah’s got her justice, I can only hope she’s at peace.”

 

Emma nods and turns away from him, frowning to herself. She wonders if Milah knew about her son, where he’d gone to. Emma wonders how much of his own part in the loss Rumplestiltskin would have revealed to the woman. He doesn’t strike Emma as the forthcoming, blame accepting type of person.

 

“I ought to thank you, Swan,” Killian continues, pulling Emma out of her own thoughts. She tries to hide the way his voice startles her by turning back to him. He’s got the rest of the pages down off the wall now, trying to flick a piece of stuck tape from his thumb. Emma smiles fondly and holds his hand steady while she peels the adhesive from his skin.

 

“For what?” Emma asks, a frown coming back over her features. She cradles his hand between her own.

 

“Everything you’ve done to help me,” he explains. Emma shakes her head. Technically, she should be thanking him. She’d asked him to help on this case and, for unpaid help, he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty. He’d nearly died - a fact she is still trying not to get chills thinking about.

 

“I was just doing my job,” she shrugs. Killian’s fingers wrap around hers and squeeze gently. She looks down at their joined hands. She can feel Killian’s gaze on her face and knows it will be too heavy for her at the moment.

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about, love,” he murmurs. Emma gives in and meets his eye. He’s got one of those soft smiles curving his lips and Emma’s stomach flips at the sight. He tugs her hand gently and Emma complies by stepping forwards towards him. “I spent a century hiding myself away from both worlds, you gave me a chance to move forward.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of tired of living in the past, too,” she admits. Killian smiles only grows in response and Emma presses forward to kiss him softly, their hands pressed between them before his pulls away to cup her jaw. When they separate, Emma can’t contain the smile on her face. She presses her forehead to Killian’s to hide it.

 

“Moving forward sounds nice,” she comments quietly. Killian wraps his arm around her back and pulls her into his embrace.

 

-/-

 

In the very back of the business office, deep into the catacombs, the wishing well occupies its own space. It comes up to about Emma’s waist with a small wooden roof rising over it. There's a bucket attached to a crank, but no water comes from the well and the crank hasn't been lowered in centuries.

 

It looks like something straight out of a fairytale, admittedly. Emma thinks it's far too cutesy for the dark use they've given it.

 

Tomorrow, Rumplestiltskin will come down to this same space and face the hearing Snow has put together. Emma can hear his bouts of loud rage interspersed with the quietness of his sudden calm. She reminds herself to ask Merlin about adding a soundproofing spell to his catacomb after the hearing. She hates the thought of her mother sitting at her desk listening to Rumplestiltskin’s screams.

 

Right now, she blocks the noise out as best she can and focuses on the body in front of her. Walsh had helped move Brighid into the farthest catacomb for a funeral service. Emma didn't know the seer well and, apparently, neither did anyone else in town. Still, the woman had spent so long trying to distance herself from people who would use her for her powers. Then, she'd come back Storybrooke just to die for it. She deserved a proper memorial.

 

Ruby’s phone calls had yielded one other person who recognized Brighid. The woman had apparently stopped into Belle’s book store every time she made a trip back into Storybrooke. Next to Emma, Belle cringes at the sound of Rumplestiltskin, but says nothing. Emma thinks the woman has seen a lot more and come out the other side a lot stronger than her small stature and kind smile suggest.

 

Emma is glad to have someone else here.

 

After Rumplestiltskin’s trial, good or bad, Cinderella will be repeating this same ritual with Trish’s body. Emma knows Merlin is waiting until they see how Rumplestiltskin ends up before he’ll hold Nimue’s, even if he won't admit it. She's not looking forward to either of those events, even if she plans to merely skirt on the outside of Trish’s funeral.

 

Belle reaches out suddenly and takes Emma’s hand. Emma isn't sure which of them the gesture is meant for, so she doesn't pull back.

 

They don't offer words. They probably should but anything they could say would be hollow. Emma hopes that Brighid had found whatever she'd been looking for while out exploring the Mundy. After what feels like an appropriate amount of time, Emma carefully slides Brighid’s body off of the borrowed gurney and into the well. The well is deep enough that they never actually hear it hit the bottom. Emma can’t help the foolish hope that the well is some sort of crossing to the afterlife, to a place of bliss, as so many of the Storybrooke residents believe.

 

She hopes she's just sent Brighid to peace.

 

-/-

 

Less that twenty four hours later, Emma stands in the same room while Rumplestiltskin - contained with squid ink smeared handcuffs and a stoic Merlin as his escort - faces the people Snow has gathered for the hearing. Emma recognizes some of them. Cinderella and Grif may be a conflict of interest, but this isn’t court and Rumplestiltskin isn’t innocent. He stares at them all, calm gaze roaming between each individual. Most shuffle uncomfortably beneath his gaze, but some stand firm. Emma glares back at him.

 

Snow clears her throat, pulling everyone’s attention. Emma keeps her eyes on Rumplestiltskin as his gaze shifts lazily to Snow. The squid isn’t in direct contact with his skin to paralyze him but Merlin was insistent that the close proximity would dull his powers.

 

“We all know why we’re here today,” Snow says diplomatically, turning to Rumplestiltskin. “Rumplestiltskin, you are being charged with the murders of Brighid, Nimue, and Trish. As well as, because we have no statute of limitations on murder, your ex-wife Milah.”

 

If Emma had so much as blinked she might have missed it. She isn’t taking her eyes off of Rumplestiltskin, though, so she doesn’t miss the momentary loss of demeanor at his ex-wife’s name. There’s a rage that burns in his eyes and Emma remembers that this is a dangerous man they’re dealing with, in more than one way.

 

“On top of those crimes,” Snow continues. Emma realizes she hasn’t so much as wavered as she’s faced Rumplestiltskin head on. David is bruised up, broken arm hanging in a sling, and Red has a sprained wrist, but Snow stares Rumplestiltskin down as though he’s a particularly annoying dwarf. “You are also being charged with the assault of Prince David and Red Riding Hood and the attempted murder of Sheriff Emma Swan.”

 

Emma had tried to fight adding her own name to the charges, but Snow had insisted it would help. She remembered the hot fear running through her as Rumplestiltskin went for her heart, the way that fear had manifested as the strongest magical output she’s ever managed. Her magic had saved her life, without it she’d be lying on a slab in one of these catacombs.

 

“Would you like to speak on your own behalf to contest these charges?” Snow asks steadily. “Or do you wish to admit guilt?”

 

Rumplestiltskin clears his throat and shifts, carefully, as not to jostle the handcuffs and make contact with the squid ink. He looks between the faces of those gathered and Emma can see the gears turning. She crosses her arms to combat the chills and watches him. Next to her, Killian tenses up.

 

“I would, of course, like to contest these ludicrous charges,” Rumplestiltskin says smoothly, high pitched cackle to his voice gone. Emma almost thinks he believes his own bullshit. “I did not kill those poor women, nor was it my intention to harm Sheriff Swan or her colleagues. However, I will admit that when I found armed men trespassing on my property, I made the decision to defend myself.”

 

“That’s shit,” Killian hisses, earning a cold look from the other man. Snow puts a hand up in Killian’s direction, intention obvious.

 

“We must allow him the chance to speak,” Snow tells Killian. Rumplestiltskin gives her a reptilian smile.

 

“As I was saying, many of you know me. I am a member of this small community, just as you are,” he continues, walking back and forth with the limited mobility of his hands. Emma turns her attention from Rumplestiltskin to watch his audience instead. “Our government, no offense to Mrs. White, is not helping most of us to survive. When you have troubles that our Mayor and Deputy Mayor won’t help you with, I offer you another solution. I am interested only in the continued thriving of our little community here.”

 

Cinderella ducks her head and Griff averts his eyes. A few other people in the small gathering shuffled their feet or avoid Rumplestiltskin’s gaze. Emma feels her stomach tighten and thinks she might throw up. She realizes they’re actually fucking buying this.

 

“You tried to claw my heart out,” Emma bites, earning a disapproving look from her mother. Rumplestiltskin turns to her, eyes analyzing her. She takes a step towards him defiantly. “After you admitted to killing those women, after you nearly choked the life out of Killian and Merlin.”

 

“Now, Miss Swan, I’m sure you don’t mean to deny me my due process,” Rumplestiltskin offers gently. It’s all a fucking act and Emma’s blood is boiling. He’s turned off all the crazed rage she’s heard the last few days and these fucking people are _buying it_. Because they owe him a few bucks or favors. She could cry or puke or, preferably, punch him again.

 

“You can’t be buying into this,” Emma continues, turning instead to the crowd looking on. “He _killed_ those women! He tried to kill me and countless other people. He sent Maleficent to threaten me off of continuing my investigation.” She pushes her jacket off one shoulder and tugs the sleeve of her t-shirt off to show off the still healing bruise on her arm. It’s a sickly yellow now that stands out against her pale skin and Cinderella gives a gasp at the sight.

 

“Don’t let him turn you against what you _know_ to be true just because he lent you money or did you a favor,” Emma insists. She’s nearly begging at this point but if they lose, if these people agree to believe Rumplestiltskin’s innocence, then they’ve lost much worse than one hearing. “He spins words pretty as gold, but they’re nothing but painted straw.”

 

When Emma turns back to him, the rage is simmering and Emma knows Rumplestiltskin won’t be able to keep it in for long. He makes a sound, low like a growl of annoyance, but it’s overtaken by Cinderella’s voice.

 

“Emma’s right,” she insists, speaking up as she looks around her fellow citizens. “Rumplestiltskin has never helped us without getting something in return. He’s been a bully- no, he’s been a predator who preys on misery. If we let him get away this, we’ve only doomed ourselves.”

 

There are a few murmurs of consideration that turns to loud grumbling. The tide is turning in their direction, but Emma can still feel the crowd taking on a herd mentality. She hears her mother trying to calm them down, the sound overrun by the angry crowd.

 

Someone shouts out, “We should just throw him down the wishing well now!”

 

That’s when it all goes to hell. Snow is joining in to try and calm them. Emma can see Killian off to the side offering no assistance. She gapes at him for a moment while he glowers at Rumplestiltskin. Killian’s eyes are dark and stormy and Emma realizes with sudden clarity that this is what Killian had meant by Milah getting her justice.

 

“Stop this!” She shouts, voice loud and rough. It gets the crowd’s attention and Emma stares at them. “We are not animals! If you’ve all agreed on his guilt, Rumplestiltskin will be contained to a detention room. Without hope of escape or freedom. _That_ is what he deserves.”

 

“That’s a cop out,” Grif growls. “He deserves to be tossed down the well head first.”

 

“If we answer needless death with more needless death, how are we any better than him?” Emma asks. The crowd is quiet as they consider this. She can feel it, the wind shifting back to her side. They’ve won this, in more than one way.

 

That’s when Rumplestiltskin wraps the chain of his handcuffs around her neck and drags Emma backwards. She gasps and pulls at the chain, feels one of her nails break as it catches the metal. She manages an elbow in Rumplestiltskin’s ribs and it allows her the chance to free herself. She turns and grabs him by the collar. They’ve ended up pressed against the brick of the well and Emma dangles him precariously over the edge.

 

She considers it for a moment. Despite everything. Despite how badly she wants to be like her parents, do the right thing, be _good_. Emma considers how easily she could haul this pathetic and despicable man over the edge, never to be heard from again.

 

“Go on, Sheriff,” Rumplestiltskin goads, the pitch of his voice climbing. “Show them who you really are.”

 

Emma’s eyes flash down to the cuffs on his wrist. She lifts her knee into his hands and pushes the cuffs backwards until the bend uncomfortably against his wrists, the flat metal of them pressing into his skin. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes go wide as his body fights against him, going slack from the squid ink. Emma lets him slump to the ground against the brick of the wishing well.

 

“You wanna know who I am?” She asks, crouching down to his level. If it were physically possible, she’s sure there would be literal flames in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. Quietly, she continues, “I met your son once.”

 

His eyes flare wide, the only muscles besides his mouth still working. He whimpers something like a question but it’s caught between his lips and Emma doesn’t really care to answer it anyway. She knows what kind of person she is and, just as importantly, she knows what kind of person _Rumplestiltskin_ is.

 

“He’s dead,” she tells him simply, without emotion. Part of her feels like it’s the last gift she’ll get to give Neal. Letting his disappointment of a father live with what he’s done. If he won’t feel remorse for Trish or Brighid or Nimue, he’ll sure as hell get to feel this.

 

Emma pushes up from her knees and turns back to the assembled crowd. They stare at her in hushed awe and Emma sighs.

 

“Can we all agree on the punishment of life in confinement?” She asks. There’s a unanimous agreement and Emma heads out past the crowd to leave the catacomb. She’s suddenly exhausted and just wants to be alone. Killian halts her progress with his hook around her wrist.

 

“What did you tell him?” He asks, studying her face. Emma glances back at Rumplestiltskin while Merlin hauls him upwards to drag him back to his enchanted catacomb.

 

“What he’d been searching for; The truth,” she shrugs, brushing off Killian’s hook. She doesn’t know how she feels about him right now. She knows he holds a darkness within him, maybe they all do in some way, but the way he’d stared down Rumplestiltskin while the crowd had tried to condemn him to his death had unsettled her. She continues, “Now he gets to live with it.”

 

They’re Stories. They live a long fucking time.

 

-/-

 

Killian is waiting for her in her office after Trish’s funeral. Emma should have expected this, really. It’s endearing, sort of, that he doesn’t just leave even if she’s clearly upset. There’s something inside of her that softens at it, Emma isn’t used to being fought for.

 

“Pirate,” she accuses when she spots the bottle of rum on the desk. Killian tilts the glass, also stolen from her bottom drawer, and it catches the glint of the shitty fluorescent light overhead. He gives her a smirk, but it’s lacking and Emma sighs. She drops into the chair across from him and Killian offers her a glass of her own rum.

 

“You’re angry,” he states. It’s not a question or an accusation. It sounds tired and Emma can relate. She’s tired, too. Literally and figuratively, she’s so god damn exhausted.

 

“I’m not angry, persay,” Emma shrugs, tilting her own glass around as she watches the dark liquid slosh up the sides. “I’m just…”

 

“Disappointed?” Killian asks with a dark grin. There’s nothing humorous in it.

 

“I’m not some disapproving parent, okay?” Emma bites. Killian meets her eye for the first time since she’d joined him in her office. “But, I saw you today. I’m not blind and you weren’t subtle. You wanted me to just throw Rumplestiltskin down the wishing well, but that’s not how we do things.”

 

“He bloody deserved it, Emma,” Killian growls and Emma takes a slow breath. If he won’t keep his cool, she will.

 

“That’s not justice, Killian,” she sighs. Killian’s jaw ticks but he doesn’t respond. “You told me you wanted justice for Milah. That’s what we got today. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t deserve the quick death of the well or the chance to taunt us in his next life.”

 

“Do you really believe that?” Killian asks, voice calmer now. It’s not a biting remark, but an actual question. Emma nods. Confinement without his powers isn’t going to be easy for Rumplestiltskin. The man is a murderer and a con artist, he has more demons than the Underworld. Perhaps the punishment Emma had inflicted _was_ the least humane of the two. She can’t find it in herself to regret it.

 

“Things are changing,” she says softly when Killian does respond. He tips back the rest of his drink and Emma isn’t sure if it’s an acknowledgement. “We have to set a precedent. Whether you agree or not, I still think it was the best choice. Even if your thirst for vengeance won’t let you see that.”

 

She tips back the rest of her own drink and slides the glass across the desk towards Killian.

 

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” she tells him, pushing herself up with her palms flat on the desk. It’s not an invitation, but it’s not _not_ an invitation either. Killian can make his decision and Emma can cope with it. She’s good at that. “You know where the rum goes when you’re done.”

 

Killian knocks on her apartment door less than twenty minutes later. Emma hadn’t been waiting for him but a weight lifts from her chest as he leans against the door, staring at her apologetically. He kisses her softly.

 

-/-

 

There’s been a lot of change in Emma’s, considerably long, life. She’s learned to roll with most of it pretty well, in her opinion. The weeks following Rumplestiltskin’s fall from power, however, are some of the most change filled weeks since the Exodus.

 

Snow slaps a file down on Emma’s desk early one morning with a bright grin and an announcement of, “A thorough case of all of Regina’s embezzling over the last five years.”

 

Emma would be lying if she said she doesn’t relish in arresting the mayor a bit.

 

Snow arranges another hearing for the case and the evidence is solid enough that even Regina’s sharp tongue can’t save her. Emma watches in pride as her mother sways the crowd easily with her compassion and honesty. They hand down a ruling of exile for Regina and the woman disappears in a cloud of purple smoke before anyone can say another word.

 

“Do you think we should be worried about her coming back to enact revenge?” Emma asks once the hearing has been dispersed and Snow has been granted the, interim, mayor position. They’ll hold an election in a few months but Emma is pretty sure her mother will win.

 

“Regina’s always got a scheme or two in mind,” Snow sighs with a shrug. “But we can handle her.”

 

As it stands, Emma figures they won’t see or hear from Regina for a while. She’ll need time to lick her wounds and really amp up her anger before she’ll try anything. Her mother is right, though, Emma is sure they can handle anything Regina throws their way.

 

Merlin holds a small ceremony for Nimue, but Emma thinks he had underestimated how many people will truly miss his wife. Merlin brings a single Middlemist to place over her heart before they lower her body into the well and Emma grips Killian’s hand.

 

Killian begins helping Merlin at the the flower shop. He comes over Emma’s apartment most nights smelling like saltwater and fresh soil, rings he refuses to remove padded with dirt. He gifts her flowers that he’d grown himself and Emma teasingly weaves him flower crowns once they start to wilt.

 

“Ah, the vicious pirate captain of legend,” she teases when he wears the crown. He kisses her senseless, pressing her back into the couch cushions. Emma finds the wilted but still tangled flowers underneath the couch a few days later, once the apartment has taken on a decaying floral scent.

 

Sometimes Killian kisses her like she’s his last chance for air, sometimes he rests between her thighs and kisses her easily, like it’s only natural for his mouth to press to hers. It’s been a while for Emma, but she thinks this thing with Killian is different. It’s nice.

 

Snow, as interim Mayor of Storybrooke, offers Merlin the job of Head Sorcerer of Glamour Distribution. With Rumplestiltskin’s imprisonment, Zelena and his other most trusted underlings have gone into hiding. Emma figures they’re somewhere in the Mundy, but doesn’t have the resources to find them.

 

Merlin manages to cut the price of glamours nearly in half. It’s still not a small sum, but it’s based on the cost of the magical items needed for the more lingering potions and totem form of the enchantment. Emma figures it’s a step in the right direction, at least.

 

Red had been given a promotion to deputy mayor. Snow had insisted that Red’s help with Regina’s case had been invaluable and that, having spent so long as her assistant, no one knew the job better than Red. Not that she needed to convince Emma or David as she explained her decision. The position is, until the election, also just an interim as the mayor hires the deputy mayor. Red suggests Emma may want to hire a deputy sheriff, as well, and mentions that Mulan just so happens to be interested in the job.

 

It’s change, but Emma kind of likes it. It feels like _good_ change, for the first time in ages.

 

-/-

 

Emma convinces Mary Margaret and David to move into the penthouse. It’s the mayor’s right, technically, and the apple orchard doesn’t seem to be under the same enchantments now that Regina’s gone. It takes a few weeks of talking it up, but finally Mary Margaret gives in to the idea.

 

“How’s your arm?” Emma asks David as she helps them pack up their apartment for the move. It could all be done magically, she supposes, but her parents have always been fond of the old fashioned way of doing things.

 

“Ah, you know,” David shrugs, rolling the arm in question. Rumplestiltskin’s blow that had tossed David and Red into a heap on the concrete weeks earlier had left the bone fractured. He seems to have full mobility of it now, though. “It locks up when the weather changes, but we’re a resilient family, aren’t we?”

 

Emma chuckles and returns her attention to marking the overstuffed box in front of her. She can’t really disagree with that sentiment after the month they’ve had.

 

“How’s your mother doing?” He inquires quietly, a little hesitation to his voice. Emma frowns at him. “I just mean, how do you think she’s handling all of this, _really_?”

 

“Honestly?” Emma shrugs, the sharpie squeaking over cardboard as she marks the words _QUILTS_ in black ink. “The way mom handles everything, you know? I think she’s putting on her brave face and getting things done the way they need to be, but she’s nervous. She just ousted the only mayor the town’s ever known. She’s doing the best she can and I don’t think anyone would deny it’s better than it was.”

 

David nods. “Yeah, yeah. I have every confidence in her, of course, but I can never tell if she’s being brave to make me feel better or if she’s just that strong.”

 

“It’s like you said, right?” Emma smiles. Her mother is one of the strongest people she knows. Even if she’s not talking about her concerns to David right now, Emma doubts that will last. They all just need time to adjust. “We’re a resilient family.”

 

Her father returns her smile, nodding in agreement. Emma knows he’s the last person in the world to question Mary Margaret’s strength, but she also understands the need for reassurance. They work in silence for a bit, but she can tell her father is amping himself up to something.

 

“So, uh, why don’t you move in here?” He asks, finally. Emma’s hand stalls, gripping the marker between her fingers. “You know, there’s more room. It’d probably be more comfortable for you and Hook.”

 

“We’re not living together,” Emma refutes immediately. David raises a hand in defense.

 

“Okay, well, either way,” he shrugs. “It just might be nice to have a little more room. Think about it is all.”

 

He stands, commenting something about needing more boxes, and brushes a kiss over her hair before exiting the apartment.

 

-/-

 

Emma wakes up suddenly to the sound of the apartment door closing. She sits up on the couch and tries to look awake as Killian rounds the corner. He leans against the wall and Emma blinks slowly at him.

 

“You were sleeping on the sofa again,” he points out.

 

“No I wasn’t,” Emma counters, but the words come out slurred even to her own ears. Groaning she gives in and flops backwards on the couch. Killian chuckles and Emma feels the couch shift as he joins her. She’s assaulted, suddenly, by the familiar smell of him and leans into it. His arm comes around her, fingers twisting her hair.

 

“You’re going to be sore,” he reprimands lightly. “You’ve a perfectly good bed down the hall.”

 

Emma mumbles some gibberish and presses further into him. When Killian laughs it vibrates through his chest and brings a smile to Emma’s face. She gives in, opening one eye to peek at him. He’s watching her softly and presses his lips to hers gently. Emma hums contentedly at the gesture.

 

“I just fell asleep,” she sighs once they pull apart. Killian frowns down at her.

 

“I thought the whole point of hiring a deputy sheriff was to not have to be up at all hours of the night dragging drunken physicians from Glowerhaven,” he points out and Emma shrugs, pushing herself off of him and stretching her arms above her head.

 

“Mulan is still being trained,” she explains, before grinning at him. “Besides, I’d be lying if I said the occasional call about Frankenstein’s disturbances or Scarlet’s public indecency weren’t the most interesting things happening lately.”

 

“Living on the edge, then, Swan?” Killian smirks. “I always knew you had a little pirate in you.”

 

“Come on, Killian,” Emma says, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it little.”

 

It takes a moment, but Killian suddenly barks a laugh as the joke sets in. He leans over capturing her mouth again, more feverishly this time. Emma responds in kind, hands tangling in his hair. Killian pulls away after a few moments, pressing his forehead to hers. Emma opens her eyes to watch his eyelashes press against his cheeks as he keeps his eyes closed.

 

“You’ll be the death of me, love,” he murmurs. Emma brushes her nose softly against his and his eyes flicker open. She scratches her nails across his scalp and Killian groans at the sensation. Emma chuckles and pulls away, standing from the couch. Killian tracks her movement, hands dragging down her arm, wrist, hand until she’s too far to reach anymore.

 

“I want to eat soon,” Emma tells him heading towards the kitchen. “You should probably change your shirt, by the way, you’re tracking potting soil everywhere.”

 

She hears Killian curse from the other room before heading down the hall to find another shirt. She smiles fondly and reminds herself to tease him about it later, before making him vacuum it all up. He comes into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt up, while Emma is digging through the pantry. They might have to give in and go get Granny’s for dinner.

 

“I’m running low on clean laundry,” he tells her. “I’ll have to remember to take the clothes I have here home to be laundered.”

 

“I could wash them,” Emma shrugs, examining a bag of saucepan pasta. It only requires three ingredients, but she’s not sure her milk isn’t spoiled. “Or you could just move in and stop pretending you don’t already live here.”

 

Killian freezes behind her and Emma nearly drops the pasta. It had been a passing thought, really, something meant to stay in her head. Not that she hadn’t been considering it lately, if she’s honest. Killian spends most nights in her apartment anyway and has like three drawers of just his clothes. There’s a specific hook by the door that she attributes to his leather jacket and a spot in the bathroom dedicated to his hook and brace when he removes them to shower or sleep.

 

It’s just that, again, she’d only _thought_ about it. The talking about it part was never supposed to be a thing.

 

“Um,” she says, eloquently, as she backs out of the pantry, closing the door. She refuses to turn and look at Killian’s face. He tugs on her wrist gently, eventually, pulling her around to face him. Emma sees that flicker of hope in his eyes and she can’t decide if that scares her more or not.

 

“If you didn’t mean it, love, it’s alright,” he assures her. Emma is grateful for the out. She wants to take it. Except, Killian has fought by her side and calls her magic beautiful. He kisses her like it’s his dying wish and brings her flowers he grew and arranged himself. There’s a spot for his jacket beside her door and he always organizes her boots after she kicks them off in separate directions.

 

She’s lived in Nottingham for centuries and, somehow, Killian makes it feel like home.

 

“No, I meant it,” she says, quiet but forceful, surprising herself at the vehemence in her voice. Killian’s eyes widen. “I mean, unless you don’t want to, obviously. I can’t ask you to just give up your home and freedom to come play house with me. That’s just-”

 

“Emma,” Killian says, cutting her off. His hand and hook rest at either sides of her waist. “You _are_ my home.”

 

Emma searches his eyes for a moment, assuring herself of his sincerity. Then, she kisses him. She pushes him back against the pantry door and starts to unbutton his new shirt, undoing all his work in moments. Killian laughs breathlessly into her mouth as he pushes up the bottom of her t-shirt, palm pressed against her stomach. His thumb strokes the skin at the edge of her bra and Emma tangles her fingers in his hair, pushing herself further towards him.

 

“Gods, Emma,” Killian groans when Emma shifts her hips against his. She nips at his bottom lip and tugs him away from the pantry door, attempting to lead him out of the kitchen. Her goal is the bedroom but she’ll be happy if they can just make it to the couch. Killian pushes her t-shirt the rest of the way up her torso and Emma separates long enough to help him pull it over her head. He tosses it onto the couch and Emma tugs him by his collar into the hallway.

 

They’re halfway down the hallway when there’s a knock at the door.

 

“Shit,” Emma groans, her head falling against Killian’s shoulder. He chuckles but it’s tight and Emma knows he’s echoing her sentiment. It could be important or her parents. Gods, she _wants_ to just ignore it but the knocking sounds again, more insistent this time.

 

“You should probably check,” Killian sighs and Emma nods against his shoulder. She grabs her shirt off the couch, tugging it back over her head before she pulls the door open.

 

“Are you Emma Swan?” Emma has to look down to find the source of the voice. A small kid, no older than ten is standing in front of her. Tucked in his arms is a near exact replica of the Storybook downstairs in the business office.

 

“Yeah,” Emma frowns. “Who are you?”

 

“My name’s Henry,” the kid says brightly, grinning up at her. Emma raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m your son.”

 

Suddenly, Emma sees it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is the end. Thanks again! ; )


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